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FOR 1920 










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INTRODUCTION ..... .... , ix 




MAGAZINES, AUGUST, 1919 JULY, 1920 . 126 

LISHED DUBINO 1919 1920 .... 161 



INDEX OF FTRST LINES . . ..... 177 


Recent American poetry is to recent British 
poetry somewhat as New York is to London. Its 
colors are higher and gayer and more diverse, its 
outlines are more jagged and more surprising; its 
surfaces glitter and flash as British poetical sur- 
faces do not always do, though its substances are 
often not so solid or so downright as the British. 
Nowhere in America have we a poet of the deep 
integrity of Thomas Hardy, a poet so rooted m 
ancient soil, ancient manners, ancient dialect. 
Nor has England a poet shining from so many 
facets as Amy Lowell, or a poet resounding with 
such a clang of cymbals now gold, now iron 
as Vachel Lindsay Experiment thrives better 
here than there; at least, our adventurers in verse, 
when they go out on novel quests for novel 
beauties, are less likely than the British to be held 
in by steadying tradition, and they bring back all 
sorts of gorgeous plunder considerably nearer in 
hue and texture to the flaming shop-windows of 
Fifth Avenue than to those soberer ones of Bond 
and Regent Streets. Even John Masefield, most 
brilliant living poet of his nation, runs true to 
British form, grounded in Chaucer and Crabbe, 
fragrant with English meadows, salt with Eng- 
land's sea. Edgar Lee Masters, as accurately read 
in Illinois as Masefield in Gloucester writes of 
Spoon River not in any manner or measure inher- 

This introduction appeared as an editorial in The Nation and 
it so comprehensively expresses the character and quality of the 
art in America today. 


ited with his speech, but more nearly in that of 
the Greek Anthology, by Masters sharpened with 
a bitter irony. 

In all directions such borrowings extend Even 
popular verse men of the newspapers play daily 
pranks with Horace, fetching him from the cool 
shades of wit to the riotous companionship of 
Franklin P Adams and George M Cohan China 
and Japan have suddenly been discovered again 
by Miss Lowell and Mr Lindsay and Witter 
Bynner and Eunice Tietjens and a dozen others; 
have been discovered to be rich treasuries of 
exquisite images, costumes, gestures, moods, emo- 
tions The corners of Europe have been ransacked 
by American poets as by American collectors, and 
translators at last are finding South America 
Imagism has been imported and has taken kindly 
to our climate H D is its finest spirit, Miss 
Lowell its firmest spokesman Ezra Pound is a 
translator-general of poetic bibelots, who seems 
to know all tongues and who ransacks them with- 
out stint or limit With exploration goes excava- 
tion Poets are cross-examining the immigrants, 
as T A. Daly the Italian-Americans. The myths 
and passions of Africa, hidden on this continent 
under three centuries of neglect and oppression, 
have emerged with a new accent in Mr Lindsay, 
who does indeed see his negroes too close to then* 
original jungles, but who finds in them poetry 
where earlier writers found only farce or sentiment. 
Still more remarkably, the Indian, his voice long 
drowned by the march of civilization, is heard 
again in tender and significant notes Speaking 
so solely to his own tribe, and taking for granted 
that each hearer knows the lore of the tribe, the 
Indian must now be expanded, interpreted, and 
already Mary Austin and Alice Corbin and Con- 
stance Lindsay Skinner have worked charming 
patterns on an Indian ground At the moment, so 
far as American poetry is concerned, Arizona and 

New Mexico are an authentic wonderland of the 
nation Now poets and lovers of poetry and 
romance, as well as ethnologists, follow the news 
of the actual excavations in that quarter. 

Indian and negro materials, however, are in 
our poetry still hardly better than aspects of the 
exotic No one who matters actually thinks that 
a national literature can be founded on such alien 
bases Where, then, are our poets to find some 
such stout tap-root of memory and knowledge as 
Thomas Hardy follows deep down to the primal 
rock of England? The answer is that for the pres- 
ent we are not to find it. We possess no such 
commodity Our literature for generations, per- 
haps centuries, will have to be symbolized by the 
melting pot, not by the tap-root. Our geographi- 
cal is also our spiritual destiny. The old idea of 
America-making in its absurd Ignorance demanded 
that each wave of newcomers be straightway 
melted down into the national pot and that the 
resultant mass be as simply Anglo-Saxon as ever. 
This was bad chemistry What has happened, and 
what is now happening more than ever, is that of 
a dozen a hundred nationalities thrown in, 
each lends a peculiar color and quality. Arturo 
Giovannitti gives something that Robert Frost 
could not give, Carl Sandburg something not to 
be looked for from Edwin Arlington Robinson; 
James Oppenheim and Alter Brody what would 
not come from Indiana or Kansas. Such a fusion, 
of course, takes a long time. The great myths 
and legends and histories of the Britons lay 
unworked for centuries in Anglo-Saxon England 
before the Normans saw them and built them into 
beauty. Eventually, unless the world changes in 
some way quite new to history, the fusion will be 
accomplished. But in the meantime experimenta- 
tion and exploration and excavation must be 
kept up. We must convert our necessities into 
virtues; must, lacking the deep soil of memory, 

which is also prejudice and tradition, cultivate 
the thinner soil which may also be reason and 
cheerfulness. Our hope lies in diversity, in variety, 
in colors yet untried, in forms yet unsuspected 
And back of all this search he the many cultures, 
converging like immigrant ships toward the 
narrows, with aspirations all to become American 
and yet with those things in their different con- 
stitutions which will enrich the ultimate substance. 


To the American poets and to the editors and 
proprietors of the magazines from which I have 
selected the poems included m the Anthology, I 
wish to express my obligation for the courteous 
permissions given to make use of copyright mate- 
rial in the preparation of this volume 

I wish, also, to thank the Boston Transcript 
Company for permission to use material which 
appeared in my annual review of American poetry 
in the columns of The Evening Transcript, and to 
The Nation Press, Inc , for permission to reprint 
the editorial which stands as the introduction to 
this volume. 

To the following publishers I am indebted for 
the privilege of using the poems named from the 
volumes in which they have been included, and 
which have been published before the appearance 
of this Anthology: 

The Macmillan Company "The Wandering 
Jew," "Tact," and "Inferential," in The Three 
Taverns, by Edwin Arlington Robinson; "To 
Other Marys," in Youth Riding: Lyncs, by Mary 
Carolyn Davies; "I Thought of You," "Oh Day 
of Fire and Sun," "When Death is Over," "The 
Long Hill," "What Do I Care," in Flame and 
Shadow by Sara Teasdale. 

Henry Holt and Company: "Little Canbou 
Makes Big Talk," in Many Many Moons, by 
Lew Sarett. 

Charles Scribner's Sons: "Storm and Sun," in 
Dust and Light, by John Hall Wheelock. 

E. P Dutton and Company. "A Natuie Lover 
Passes, " in A Minstrel Sings, by Daniel Henderson 

The Yale University Press- "The House at 
Evening, " and " Her Way, " in The Perpetual Light, 
by William Rose Benet; "Farmers," in In April 
Once, by William Alexander Percy, 

Small, Maynard and Company: "Maximilian 
Marvelous," and "Transformation," in Veils of 
Samite by J Corson Miller, "April" in 

Harcourt, Brace and Howe, Inc : "The Lawyers 
Know Too Much," "Accomplished Facts" and 
"Tangibles," in The City of Smoke, by Carl 
Sandburg; "Rebels" and "Auction. Anderson 
Galleries," in The New Adam by Louis Unter- 

Brentano's- "You Talk of This and That" and 
"He Did Not Know," in Chanties and Songs by 
Harry Kemp. 

B. W. Huebsch "Exile," "Gesture" and 
"Resemblance," in The Hesitant Heart, by Wini- 
fred Welles 

Nicholas L Brown. "Dorothy," in The Blood of 
Things: A Second Boole of Free Forms, by Alfred 

Alfred A. Knopf "Sonnet" and "Endrng",in 
"Advice and Other Poems" by Maxwell Bodenheim. 

To Thomas Hardy 

Off the long headland, threshed about by round-hacked 


There is a black rock, standing high at the full tide, 
Off the headland there is emptiness, 
And the moaning of the ocean, 
And the black rock standing alone. 

In the orange wake of sunset, 

When the gulls have fallen silent, 

And the winds slip out and meet together from the 

edges of the sea, 
Settled down in the dark water, 
Fragment of the earth abandoned, 
Ragged and huge the black rock stands. 

It is as if it listened, 

Stood and listened very intently 

To the everlasting swish and boom and hiss of spray. 

Listened to the creeping-on of night, 

While afar off, to the westward, 

Dark clouds silently are packed together, 

With a dull red glow between. 

It is listening, it is lonely, 

For the sunlight 

Showed it houses near the headland, 

Trees and flowers; 

For the sunlight caused to grow upon it scanty blades 

of grass, 

In the crannies of the rock, 
Here and there; 
For the sunlight brought it back remembrance of a 

Long rejected 


And long lost, 

Stowed it white sails near the coast, 

Children paddling in the bay, 

Signs of life and kinship with mankind 

Long forgot 

Now the sunset leaves it there, 

Bare, rejected, a black scrap of rock, 

Battered by the tides, 

Wallowing in the sea. 

Bleak, adrift, 

Shattered like a monstrous ship of stone, 

Left aground 

By the waters, on its voyage; 

With no foot to touch its deck. 

With no hand to hf t its sails, 

There it stands. 


Gulls wheel near it in the sunlight, 

White backs flash; 

Gray wings eddy, curl, are lifted, swept away, 

On a wave, 

Gulls pass rapidly in the sunlight 

Round about it. 

Gulls pass, screaming harshly to the wave-thrusts, 
Laughing in uncanny voices; 
Lonely flocks of great white birds, 
Like to ghosts, 

But the black rock does not welcome them, 
Knows by heart already all their cries, 
Hears, repeated, for the millionth millionth tune 
All the bitterness of ocean 
Howling through their voices. 

It still dreams of other things, 
Of the cities and the fields, 


And the lands near to the coast 
Where the lonely grassy valleys 
Full of dun herds deeply -browsing, 
Sweep in wide curves to the sea; 

It still holds the memory 
Of the wild bees booming, murmuring, 
In the fields of thyme and clover, 
And the shadows of broad trees 
Towards noon- 

It still lifts its huge scarred sides 
Vainly to the burning glare of sun, 
With the memory of doom 
Thick upon them; 
And the hope that by some fate 
It may come once more to be 
Part of all the earth it had; 

Freed from clamor of the waves, 
From the broken planks and wreckage 
Drifting aimless here and there, 
With the tides; 

Freed to share its life with earth, 
And to be a dwelling-place 
For the outcast tribes of men, 
Once again. 


In the morning, 

When the dark clouds whirl swift over, 
From the southeast, dragging with them 
Heavy curtains of gray rain, 

The black rock rejoices. 

All its little gullies drip with cool refreshing showers. 
All the crannies, all the steeps, 
All the meagre sheltered places 
Fill with drip and tinkle of the rain. 


But when the afternoon between the clouds 
Leaves adrift cool patches of the sea, 
Between floes of polar snow; 

Then the rock is all aflame 
Diamond, emeralds, topazes, 
Burn and shatter, and it seems 
Like ft garden filled with flowers. 

Like a garden where the rapid wheeling lights 
And black shadows lift and sway and fall; 
Spring and summer and red autumn chase each other 
Moment after moment, on its face. 

So, till sunset 

Lifts once more its lonely crimson torch, 

Menacing and mournful, far away, 

Then an altar left abandoned, it stands facing all the 

Where the light departs 

Massive black and crimson towers, 

Cities carven by the wind from out the clouds of sunset 

look at it, 

It has dreamed them, it has made this sacrifice, 
Now it sees their rapid passing, 
Soon it will be bleak and all alone. 


Abrupt and broken rock, 

Black rock, awash in the midst of the waters, 

Lonely, aloof, deserted, 

Impotent to change, 

Storm-clouds lift off, 
The dawn strikes the hills far inland 
But you are forever tragic and apart, 
Forever battling with the sea; 

Till the waves have ground you to dust 

Till the ages are all accomplished, 

Till you have relinquished the last reluctant fragment 

To the gnawing teeth of the wave; 

I know the force of your patience, 

I have shared your grim silent struggle, 

The mad dream you have, and will not abandon* 

To cover your strength with gay flowers, 

Keel of the world, apart, 
I have lived like you 

Some men are soil of the earth, 

Their lives are broad harvest fields 

Green in the spring, and gold in their season, 

Then barren and mown, 

But those whom my soul has loved 
Are bare rocks standing off headlands, 
Cherishing, perhaps, a few bitter wild flowers, 
That bloom in the granite, year after year. 

The Yale Review John Gould Fletcher 


The world is wasted with fire and sword 
But the apples of gold hang over the sea. 

When the wounded seaman heard the ocean daughters 

With their dreamy call 

Lull the stormy demon of the waters, 

He remembered all. 

He remembered knowing of an island charted, 
"Past a flying fire," 

Where a fruit was growing, winey-hearted, 
Called "the mind's desire." 

Near him broke the stealing rollers into jewels 
Round a tree, and there 
Sorrow's end and healing, peace, renewals 
Ripened in the air. 

So he knew he'd found it and he watched the glory 
Burning on the tree 

"With the dancers round it like the story 
In the swinging sea 

Lovely round the honey-colored fruit, the motion 
Made a leafy stir 

Songs were in that sunny tree of ocean 
Where the apples were. 

First the ocean sung them, then the daughters after, 
Dancing to the word 

Beauty danced among them with low laughter 
And the harp was heard 

In that sea's immeasurable music sounded 
Songs of peace, and still 

From the bough the treasure hung down rounded 
To the seaman's will. 

Redder than the jewel-seede'd beach and sharper 
Were the wounds he bore, 
Hearing, past the cruel dark, a harper 
Lulling on the shore 

Long he watched the wonders, ringed with lovely perils, 

Watched the apples gleam 

In the sleepy thunders on the beryls, 

Then he breathed his dream* 

"Bloody lands and flaming seas and cloudy slaughter, 
Hateful fogs unfurled, 
Steely horror, shaming sky and water, 
These have wreathed the world 


" Give me fruit for freighting, till my anchor grapples 
Home beyond the vast. 

Earth shall end her hating through the apples 
And be healed at last." 

Then the sea-girls, lifting up their lovely voices 
With the secret word, 
Sang it through the drifting ocean noises 
And the sailor heard; 

Ocean-old the answers reached his failing sinew, 
Touched, unveiled his eyes; 
"Beach and bough and dancers are within you, 
There the island lies 

"Though the heavens harden, though the thunders 


Though our song be mute, 
Burning in our garden for the lover 
Still unfolds the fruit." 

Outward from that shore the happy sailor, turning, 
Passed the fleets of sleep, 
Passed his pain and bore the secret, burning, 
Homeward to the deep. 

The Nation Ridgely Torrence 


Make of my voice a blue-edged sword, Oh, Lord! 
Strengthen my soul to deliver your war-cry, 
Make of my voice a blue-edged sword, Oh, Lord! 

Out of my frailness fashion a piercing reed, 
Out of my pity a great battle ax, 
Out of my frailness fashion a piercing reed! 


I have had a vision and I cannot sleep, 
A vision consumes me and tears me apart, 
I have had a vision and I cannot sleep. 

Oh body of mine, make of yourself a stronghold, 

Gird yourself in the steel of your vision, 

Oh body of mine, make of yourself a stronghold' 

Make of my breath an infinite prophecy, Oh, Lord! 

Make of my song a summons to prayer, 

Make of my breath an infinite prophecy, Oh, Lord ! 

A vision consumes me and I am its slave and its lover, 
Make of my spirit a song so that I may announce it' 
A vision consumes me and I am its slave and its lover. 

Contemporary Verse Marya Alexandrovna Zaturensky 


. . . and The Good, which lies beyond is the Fountain at 
once and Principle of Beauty the Primal Good and the 
Pnmal Beauty have the one dwelling-place and, thus, 
always, Beauty's seat is There. PLOTXNTTS 

The sun shines bright in many places, 

Beauty stoops into the vault, 

One Light illumines many faces, 

Shows perfection through the fault. 

And every mountain, sky or river 

Holds one heavenly reply 

To my questions, from the Giver 

Of the Gift that cannot die 

Yet I destroy my purest pleasure 

While I hesitate, compare. 

God is the undivided Treasure . . . 

Timeless Beauty is my share. 

The Catholic World Armel O'Connor 


I do not kneel at night, to say a prayer; 
I think of spiders and I do not dare! 

My knees are thin, and easily they could 
Gather a splinter, roughened from the wood. 

I'm cold, and bed is warm, I'm better there, 
Than in the outer darkness of a prayer I 

But when the morning wakes up, pink and cool, 
And sunrise makes our peach-blooms glory-full; 

And God comes smiling down the garden-walk, 
I run and slip my hand in His, and talk* 

I tell Him that I am a naughty lamb; 
He laughs and says He made me as I am! 

Contemporary Verse Katharine McClttskey 


I am a dancer. When I pray 
I do not gather thoughts with clumsy thread 
Into poor phrases. Birds all have a way 
Of singing home the truth that they are birds, 
And so my loving litany is said 
Without the aid of words. 
I am a dancer. Under me 
The floor dreams lapis lazuli, 
With inlaid gems of every hue 
Mother o' pearl I tread like dew, 
While at the window of her frame 
Our Lady, of the hallowed name, 
Leans on the sill. Gray saints glare down, 
Too long by godliness entranced, 


"With piety of painted frown, 

Who never danced 

But Oh, Our Lady's quaint, arrested look 

Remembers when she danced with bird and brook, 

Of wind and flower and innocence a part, 

Before the rose of Jesus kissed her heart 

And men heaped heavy prayers upon her breast. 

She watches me with gladness half confessed 

Who dare to gesture homage with my feet, 

Or twinkle lacy steps of joy 

To entertain the Holy Boy, 

Who, laughing, pirouette and pass, 

Translated by the colored glass, 

To meanings infinitely sweet 

And though it is not much, I know, 

To fan the incense to and fro 

With skirt as flighty as a wing, 

It seems Our Lady understands 

The method of my worshipping, 

The hymns I'm lifting in my hands 

I am a dancer 

Contemporary Verse Amanda Benjamin Hall 


God has such a splendid way 

Of launching his unchallenged yea* 

Of giving sphery grapes their sheen, 
Of painting trees and grasses green; 

Of crooning April rains that we 
May wash us in simplicity, 


Of swinging little smiling moons 
Beyond the reach of noisy noons; 

Of storing in the honey bee 
The whole of life's epitome. 

God has such a splendid way 
Of tempting beauty out of clay, 

And from the scattered dusts that sleep 
Summoning men who laugh and weep ; 

And, by and by, of letting death 
Draw into space our thread of breath. 

Poetry* A Magazine of Verse Louise Ayres Garnett 


Men know that the birch-tree always 

"Will grow where they cut down the pine 

This is the way of the forest, 

And the same way shall be mine. 

For now that my sorrow lies stricken, 

And shadow in me is done, 
I, too, shall have years of laughter, 

And of dancing in the sun. 

Harper's Magazine Winifred Welles 



Suddenly flickered a flame, 
Suddenly fluttered a wing- 
Wist, can a dead bird sing? 
Somebody spoke your name. 

Suddenly fluttered a wing, 
Sounded a voice, the same, 
Somebody spoke your name: 
Ob., the remembering ' 

Sounded a voice, the same, 
Song of the heart's green spring, 
Oh, the remembering 
Which of us was to blame? 

Song of the heart's green spring, 
Wings that still flutter, lame, 
Which of us was to blame? 
God, the slow withering I 

The Centwry Ma.gax.vne Leonora Speyer 


Now that the gods are gone, 

And the kings, the gods' shadows, are gone, 
Man is alone on the earth, 

Thrust out with the suns, alone. 

Silent he walks among 

The unanswering stars of his night, 
Knowing his hands are weak, that his eyes 

Deceive in the light. 

Knowing there is no guerdon to win 
But the dark and his measure of mould, 

Foreseemg the end of dream, foreseeing 
Youth grow old. 

Yet, knowing despair he is free, 

Free of bonds, of faith, of pain. 
What should frighten him now 

Who has nothing to gain, 

When he takes the place of the gods, 

And chaos is his and the years, 
And the thunderous histories of worlds 

Throb loud for his ears? 

Now that the gods are gone 

The skies are dust in his hands; 
Through his fingers they slip like dust 

Blown across waste lands, 

And his glance takes in beauty and grief 

And the centuries coming or flown: 
He is god of all ways and things 

And a fool and alone. 

The New Republic McutweU Andenon 



If I could sing the song of the dawn, 
The carolling word of leaf or bird, 
And the sun- waked fern uncurling there 
I would go lonely and would not care! 

If I could sing the song of the dusk, 
The stars and moon of glistening June 
Lit at the foot and the head of me, 
The Spinner might break the thread of me! 

If I could sing but the song of love, 
Fill my throat with each sounding note, 
Others might kiss and clasp and cling, 
Mine be the lips that would sing would sing! 

The Smart Set Leonora Speyer 


I come singing the keen sweet smell of grass 

Cut after rain, 

And the cool ripple of drops that pass 

Over the grain, 

And the drenched light drifting across the plain. 

I come chanting the mad bloom of the fall. 

And the swallows 

Rallying in clans to the rapid call 

From the hollows, 

And the wet west wind swooping down on the swallows. 

I come shrilling the sharp white of December, 

The night like quick steel 

Swung by a gust in its plunge through the pallid ember 

Of dusk, and the heel 

Of the fierce green dark grinding the stars like steel 

The New Republic Jacob Auslander 



A lonely lake, a lonely shore, 
A lone pine leaning on the moon; 
All night the water-beating wings 
Of a solitary loon. 

With mournful wail from dusk to dawn 
He gibbered at the taunting stars, 
A hermit-soul gone raving mad, 
And beating at his bars. 

American Forestry Lew Sarett 


I am afraid to go into the woods, 

I fear the trees and their mad, green moods. 

I fear the breezes that pull at my sleeves, 
The creeping arbutus beneath the leaves, 

And the brook that mocks me with wild, wet words: 
I stumble and fall at the voice of birds. 

Think of the terror of those swift showers, 
Think of the meadows of fierce-eyed flowers: 

And the little things with sudden wings 
That buzz about me and dash and dart, 
And the lilac waiting to break my heart! 

Winter, hide me m your kind snow, 
I am a coward, a coward, I know! 

Contemporary Verse Leonora Speyer 



Oh line of trees all dark and green 
Like stately sentinels you stand 
God's mystery to the world you bring, 
God's presence to the land' 

So straight and free, 

So still and dark, 

God's sentinels you stand. 

Your leafiness makes one forget 

The wrath of TTig invisible Hand. 

But lacy leaves mean sturdy bark, 
So sure you point the mark 
Big exclamations to God's throne, 
Your trembling leaves cry "Hark'" 

Rose Parkewood 


One night in May in a clear sky 

The moon was a daisy flower : 

And I put it m my coat, 

A bouquet of Love ' 

Now I shall wear it 

When I go 

Along the city streets 

The people will say 

As I pass by 

" He has a sweet soul!" 

They will not see my flower, 

And cannot know 

"Whence comes the fragrance of my spirit' 

The Wayfarer Ira Titu* 



Trees need not walk the earth 

For beauty or for bread; 

Beauty will come to them 

"Where they stand 

Here among the children of the sap 

Is no pride of ancestry: 

A birch may wear no less the morning 

Than an oak. 

Here are no heirlooms 

Save those of loveliness, 

In which each tree 

Is kingly in its heritage of grace. 

Here is but beauty's wisdom 

In which all trees are wise. 

Trees need not walk the earth 

For beauty or for bread; 

Beauty will come to them 

In the rainbow 

The sunlight 

And the lilac-haunted rain; 

And bread will come to them 

As beauty came: 

In the rainbow 

In the sunlight 

In the rain. 

The Nation David Rosenihal 


A man may think wild things under the moon 
In March when there is a tapping in the pails 
Hung breast-high on the maples. Though you sink 
To boot-tops only in the uncrusted snow, 
And feel last autumn's leaves a short foot down, 


There will be one among the men you meet 

To say the snow lies six feet level there. 

"Not here'" you say; and he says, "In the woods" 

Implying woods that he knows where to find 

Well, such a moon may be miraculous, 

And if it has the power to make one man 

Believe a common February snow 

The great storm-wonder he would talk about 

For years if once he saw it, there may be 

In the same shimmering sickle over the hill 

Vision of other things for other men. 

The moon again 

Playing tonight with vapors that go up 

And out into the silver. The brown sap works 

Its foamy bulk over the great log fire 

Colors of flame light up a man, who kneels 

With sticks upon his arm, and in his face 

A grimace of resistance to the glow. 

All that is burning is not under here 

Boiling the early sap I wonder why. 

It is as calm as a dream of paradise 

Out there among the trees, where runnels make 

The only music heard above the sway 

Of branches fingering the leaning -moon. 

And yet a man must go, when the sap has thickened, 

Up and away to sleep a tired sleep, 

And dream of dripping from a rotting roof 

Back into sap that once was rid of him. 

I wonder why, I wonder why, I wonder . . . 

Close the iron doors and let the fire die, 

And the faint night-wind blow throjigh the broken 


The sugar thickens, and the moon is gone, 
And frost threads up the singing rivulets 
I am going up the mountain toward the stars, 
But I should like to lie near earth tonight 
Earth that has borne the furious grip of winter 

And given a kind of birth to beauty at last 

Look! the old breath thrills through her once again 

And there will be passion soon, shaking her veins 

And driving her spirit upward till the buds 

Burst overhead, and swallows find the eaves 

Of the sugar-house untroubled by the talk 

Of men gone off with teams to mend the roads 

I think I shall throw myself down here in the snow 

So to be very near her when she stirs 

Poetry , A Magazine of Verse Raymond Holden 


Not all flowers have souls, 

But roses, for they are memories of lovers, 

And lilies, their prayers, 

Azaleas, who give themselves to the winds, 

And irises, beloved of Pindar, 

And the pale oenothera, 

Incandescent in the twilight, 

And many sweet and simple flowers 

Snowdrops and violets, 

White and delicately veined 

And all shadowy wind-flowers. 

But not tree blossoms, 

Which are the breath of Spring, 

Nor poppies, splendid and secret, 

And sprung from drops of Persian blood, 

Nor water-lilies, who have but their dreams, 

And float, little worlds of scent and color, 

Wrapt in their golden atmosphere. 

The Dial Florence Taker Holt 


The dust is thick along the road, 
The fields are scorching in the sun; 

My wife has ever a bitter word 
To greet me when the day is done. 

The neighbors rest beside the gate 
But half their words are high and shrill. 

My son is over-young to help; 
The fields are very hard to till 

But in the dusk I raise my eyes 
The poet's words come back to me 

"In the moon there is a white jade gate 
Shadowed co.ol by a cassia tree " 

Poetry, A. Magazine of Verse Elisabeth J. Coatswortk 


Two of Thy children one summer day worked in their 

garden, Lord, 
They chopped the weeds of yesterday and you sent 

down a golden smile. 
Two of Thy children one sunny day worked in their 

garden, Lord, 
They hoed the furrow straight for the earthy bed and 

you whispered a singing smile. 
Two of Thy children one windy day worked in their 

garden, Lord, 
They pressed out the lumps from the clayey soil and 

you closed your shining eyes; 
Two of Thy children one cloudy day worked in their 

garden, Lord, 
They dropped in the seeds with a song in their hearts 

and you sent a soothing tear 

Two of Thy children one rainy day turned from their 

garden, Lord 
Your Smile and your Sigh and your Tear entered Into 

their hearts 
Two of Thy children, aU the days of their life will work in 

Thy garden, Lord! 

Rose ParJcewood 


The Roman wall was not more grave than this, 

That has no league at all with great affairs. 
That knows no ruder hands than clematis, 

No louder blasts than blowing April airs. 
Yet, with a gray solemnity it broods, 

Above the walk where simple folk go past, 
And in its crannies keeps their transient moods, 

Holding their careless words unto the last. 

The rains of summer, and the creeping vine 
That season after season clings in trust, 

And shivered poppies red as Roman wine, 

These things at last will haunt its crumbled dust 

Not dreams of empires shattered where they lie, 
But children's laughter, birds, and bits of sky. 

The Bookman Damd Morton 


Of finest porcelain and of choicest dye, 
This bit of egg shell from a robin's nest; 
I thought at first I'd found upon earth's breast 
A chip from that blue bowl we call the sky! 


Contemporary Verse Antoinette De Coursey Patterson 


Even when all my body sleeps, 

I shall remember yet 
The wistfulness that April keeps, 

When boughs at dusk are wet. 

The haunted twilight on the lane, 

The far-off cricket's croon; 
And beautiful and washed by ram, 

The mellow rounded moon 1 

So, underneath the waving grass, 

And underneath the dew, 
April, whenever you will pass, 

My dust will dream of you 1 

The Argosy Louis Ginsberg 


Your hot voice sizzles from some cool tree near by: 
You seem to burn your way through the air 
Like a small, pointed flame of sound 
Sharpened on the ecstatic edge of sunbeams! 


It swoops gray-winged across the obliterated hills, 
And the startled lake seems to run before it. 
From the woods comes a clamor of leaves, 
Tugging at the twigs, 
Pouring from the branches, 
And suddenly the birds are still. 

Thunder crumples the sky, 
Lightning tears at it. 


And now the rain ' 

The rain thudding implacable 

The wand, revelling in the confusion of great pines! 

And a silver sifting of light, 

A coolness 

A sense of summer anger passing, 

Of summer gentleness creeping nearer 

Penitent tearful 



All night the crickets chirp, 

Like little stars of twinkling sound 

In the dark silence 

They sparkle through the summer stillness 

With a crisp rhythm* 

They lift the shadows on their tiny voices 

But at the shining note of birds that wake, 
Flashing from tree to tree till all the wood is lit 
O golden coloratura of dawn ' 
The cricket-stars fade slowly, 
One by one. 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Leonora Speyer 


The wood is talking in its sleep. 

Have a care, trees ' 

You are heard by the brook and the breeze 

And the listening lake, 

And some of the birds are awake, 

I know 

Green, garrulous wood, I trusted you so ! 

Contemporary Verse Leonora Speyer 


Stiff in midsummer green, the stolid hillsides 
March with their trees, dependable and stanch, 

Except where here and there a lawless maple 
Thrusts to the sky one red, rebellious branch. 

You see them standing out, these frank insurgents, 
With that defiant and arresting plume, 

Scattered, they toss this flame like some wild signal, 
Calling their comrades to a brilliant doom. 

What can it mean this strange, untimely challenge; 

This proclamation of an early death? 
Are they so tired of earth they fly the banner 

Of dissolution and a bleeding faith? 

Or is it, rather than a brief defiance, 

An anxious welcome to a vivid strife? 
A glow, a heart-beat, and a bright acceptance 

Of all the rich exuberance of life. 

Rebellious or resigned, they flaunt their color, 

A sudden torch, a burning battle-cry. 
"Light up the world," they wave to all the others; 

"Swiftly we live and splendidly we die " 

Harper's Magazine Louis Untermeyer 


I watch the farmers in their fields 

And marvel secretly 
They are so very calm and sure, 

They have such dignity. 

They know such simple things so well. 
Although their learning's small, 

They find a steady, brown content 
Where some find none at all. 

And all their quarrelmgs with. God 

Are soon made up again; 
They grant forgiveness when He sends 

His silver, tardy rain. 

Their pleasure is so grave and full 

When gathered crops are trim, 
You know they think their work was done 

In partnership with Him. 

Then, why, when there are fields to buy, 

And little fields to rent, 
Do I still love so foolishly 

Wisdom and discontent? 

Contemporary Verse William Alexander Percy 


Green golden door, swing in, swing in 1 

Fanning the life a man must livje, 

Echoes and airs and minstrelsies, 

Love and hope that he called his, 

Fear and hurt and a man's own sin. 

Casting them forth and sucking them in, 
Green golden door, swing out, swing out! 

Green golden door, swing in, swing in I 
Show me the youth that will not die. 
Tell me the dream that has not waked, 
Seek me the heart that never ached, 
Speak me the truth men will not doubt! 

Green golden door, swing out, swing out! 

Green golden door, swing in, swing out! 
Long is the wailing of man's breath, 
Short is the wail of death. 

The New Republic Jeannette Marks 



What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring, 

That my songs do not show me at all? 
For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire, 

I am an answer, they are only a call. 

What do I care for love will be over so soon 
Let my heart have its say, and my mind stand idly 

For my mind is proud, and strong enough to be silent 
It is my heart that makes my songs, not I. 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Sara Teasdale 


Love, we have dipped Life's humble bread 
Into the stars' flame-bubbling springs; 

We've knelt before the Moon's white face, 
While around us whirred Night's purple wings. 

Love, we have trod the floors of Morn, 
And watched Dawn's reeling galleons die; 

The sunset's panoramic hills 

Love, we have known them, you and I. 

Upon the battlements of Time 

We stood and heard Life's thunders roar: 
A million ticking years that swelled 

The crashing notes of millions more. 

Our hearts have germinated sweet 
To beauty through each golden hour; 

But now the bloom-time days are past, 
The stalk is fading with the flower. 


And we shall seek earth's simple things: 
A roof-tree small, a green-thatched fire 

Come, Love, and lay your cherished dreams 
Beneath the touch of my desire. 

We could not climb the Infinite, 
The jagged heights were steep and long; 

For us child- wistfulness and sleep 
Old twilight memories and song. 

Love, is it here that we shall wend, 

Down homeht paths, grown gently wise? 

Perhaps your eyes, made glad of earth, 
Shall find the Key to Paradise. 

New York Times J, Corson Miller 


She wore purple, and when other people slept 

She stept lightly lightly in her ruby powdered 


Along the flags of the East portico. 
And the moon slowly rifting the heights of cloud 
Touched her face so that she bowed 
Her head, and held her hand to her eyes 
To keep the white shining from her. And she was wise, 
For gazing at the moon was like looking on her own 

dead face 

Passing alone in a wide place, 
Chill and uncosseted, always above 
The hot protuberance of Me Love to her 
Was morning and a great stir 
Of trumpets and tire-women and sharp sun. 
As she had begun, so she would end, 
Walking alone to the last bend 
Where tl\e portico turned the wall. 
And her slipper's sound 
Was scarce as loud upon the ground 

As her tear's fall. 

Her long white fingers crisped and clung 
Each to each, and her weary tongue 
Battled always the same cold speech. 

" Gold was not made to lie in grass, 

Silver dints at the touch of brass, 

The days pass " 

Lightly, softly, wearily, 
The lady paces, drearily 
Listening to the half -shrill croon 
Leaves make on a moony Autumn night 
When the windy light 
Runs over the ivy eerily 

A branch at the corner cocks an obscene eye 

As she passes passes by and by 

A hand stretches out from a column's edge, 

Paces float in a phosphorent wedge 

Through the points of arches, and there is speech 

In the carven roof-groins out of reach. 

A love-word, a lust-word, shivers and mocks 

The placid stroke of the village clocks. 

Does the lady hear? 

Is any one near? 

She jeers at life, must she wed instead 

The cold dead? 

A marriage-bed of moist green mould. 

With an over-head tester of beaten gold. 

A splendid price for a splendid scorn, 

A tombstone pedigree snarled with thorn 

Clouding the letters and the fleur-de-lis, 

She will have them in granite for her heart's chill ease. 

I set the candle in a draught of air 
And watched it swale to the last thin flare. 
They laid her in a fair chamber hung with arras, 
And they wept her virgin soul. 

The arras was woven of the story of Minos and Dic- 


But I grieved that I could no longer hear the shuffle of 

her feet along the portico, 
And the ruffling of her train against the stones. 

The Dial Amy Lowell 


I, who laughed my youth away 

And blew bubbles to the sky, 

Thin as air and frail as fire, 

Opals, pearls of such desire 

As a saint could but admire; 

Now as azure as a sigh, 

Then with passion all aglow 

Golden, crimson, purple, gray 

Moods and moments of a day 

Have been gay, 


As they, 

Sailing high, 

Sinking low; 

Even so 



Walking Paris in a trance, 

With my weary feet in Prance 

And my heart in Bergamo, 

Loved and lost my laughing way. 

I, of course, have never had 
Any great amount of gold 
Other than my bubbles hold. 
Love 9 I have no loving plan 
As a guide to beast or man, 
Being neither good nor bad, 
Just a sort of sorry lad. 

Ainslee's Magazine William Griffith 



Dearest, we are like two flowers 
Blooming last in a yellowing garden, 
A purple aster flower and a red one 
Standing alone in a withered desolation 

The garden plants are shattered and seeded, 
One brittle leaf scrapes against another, 
Fiddling echoes of a rush of petals 
Now only you and I nodding together. 

Many were with us; they have all faded. 
Only we are purple and crimson, 
Only we in the dew-clear mornings, 
Smarten into color as the sun rises. 

When I scarcely see you in the flat moonlight, 

And later when my cold roots tighten, 

I am anxious for the morning, 

I cannot rest in fear of what may happen. 

You or I and I am a coward. 
Surely frost should take the crimson. 
Purple is a finer color, 
Very splendid in isolation. 

So we nod above the broken 
Stems of flowers almost rotted. 
Many mornings there cannot be now 
For us both. Ah, Dear, I love you' 

Scribner's Magazine Amy Lowell 



They said someone was waiting; 

And at the trysting oak 
Sudden enchanting voices 

Leaf-lightly spoke. 

Daylong she had been coming, 

And all the forest sang 
Of beauty: elfin-softly 

The bluebells rang 

Nightlong she was in shadow, 

She who went away 
As the moon does in the silver 

Veils of day. 

I see no course to follow, 

Alas, nor where to find 
The silver way she vanished, 

Being blind. 

The Smart Set William Griffith 


Her footsteps fall in silent sands, 

Her hands are cool like growing leaves; 

The fingers of her hovering hands 

Touch lightly, pass; and time bereaves 

The benison of her caress 

Of peace, or pain, or bitterness 

The kisses of her mouth like dew 
Rain gently down, if she has sinned, 

That she had sinned she never knew; 
Lightly she walks upon the wind, 

And like the wind she leaves no trace 

Upon the quiet of this place. 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Maurice Browne 



I never met the Spring alone before . 
The flowers, birds, the loveliness of trees, 
For with me always there was one I love 
And love is shield against such gifts as these. 

But now I am alone, alone, alone; 
The days and nights one long remembering. 
Did other Aprils that we shared possess 
The hurting beauty of this living Spring? 

I never met the Spring alone before 

My starving grief this radiance of gold' . . . 

To be alone, when Spring is being born, 

One should be dead or suddenly grown old. 

Contemporary Verse Caroline Qdfanan 


Red wreaths 

Hang in my neighbor's window, 
Green wreaths in my own 
On this day I lost my husband. 
On this day you lost your boy. 
On this day 
Christ was born. 
Red wreaths, 
Green wreaths 
Hang in our windows, 
Red for a bleeding heart, 
Green for grave grass. 
Mary, mother of Jesus, 
Look down and comfort us. 
You too knew passion, 
You too knew pain 
Comfort us, 

Who are not brides of God, 

Nor bore God. 
On Christmas day 
Hang wreaths, 
Green for spent passion, 
Red for new pain. 

Poetry* A Magazine of Verse Carolyn SiUman 


My arms were always quiet, 

Close and never freed, 
I was furled like a banner, 

Enfolded like a seed. 

I thought, when Love shall strike me, 
Each arm will start and spring, 

Unloosen like a petal 
And open like a wing. 

Oh Love my arms are lifted, 

But not to sway and toss, 
They strain out wide and wounded 

Like arms upon a cross. 

The North American Review Winifred WeUee 


I cannot put you away; 
By night and day 
You come in a dream and cry, 
"It is I' It is I!" 

I will rise and turn the lock 
Nor heed your knock, 
But rest for a night and day 
"With you away. 


And then I will find release 
And empty peace, 
In silence that will not cry 
"It is I' It is I'" 

New York Sun Books and Herbert S. Gorman 

the Book World 


Observant of the way she tola 

So much of what was true, 
No vanity could long withhold 

Regard that was her due 
She spared him the familiar guile, 

So easily achieved, 
That only made a man to smile 

And left him undeceived. 

Aware that all imagining 

Of more than what she meant 
Would urge an end of everything, 

He stayed, and when he went, 
They parted with a merry word 

That was to him as light 
As any that was ever heard 

Upon a starry night 

She smiled a little, knowing well 

That he would not remark 
The ruins of a day that f eH 

Around her in the dark: 
He saw no rums anywhere, 

Nor fancied there were scars 
On anyone who lingered there, 

Alone below the stars. 

The Tale Review Edunn Arlington Rdbinion 



Like wine grown stale, the street-lamp's pallor seeks 

The wilted anger of her scarlet lips, 

And bitter, evanescent finger-tips 

Of unsaid questions play upon her cheeks. 

She sways a little, and her tired breath, 

Fumbling at the crucifix of her mind, 

Draws out the aged nails, now dull and kind, 

That once were sharp loves hardening m their death. 

And so a dumb joy tips her sudden smiles 

At passing men who eye her wonderingly 

And hurry on because her face is old. 

They merely think her clumsy in her wiles - 

They know not that her face is dizzily 

At rest because old memories have grown cold. 

The IhaL Majcuell Bodenkeim 


It's little I care what path I take, 
And where it leads it's little I care, 

But out of this house, lest my heart break, 
I must go, and off somewhere ' 

It's little I know what's in my heart, 
What's in my mind it's little I know, 

But there's that in me must up and start, 
And it's little I care where my feet go! 

I wish I could walk for a day and a night 
And find me at dawn in a desolate place, 

With never the rut of a road in sight, 

Or the roof of a house, or the eyes of a face. 

I wish I could walk till my blood should spout, 

And drop me, never to stir again, 
On a shore that is wide, for the tide is out, 

And the weedy rocks are bare to the rain. 

But dump or dock, where the path I take 

Bnngs up, it's little enough I care, 
And it's little I'd mind the fuss they'll make, 

Huddled dead in a ditch somewhere. 

"la something the matter, dear," she said, 
*' That you sit at your work so silently 9 " 

"No, mother, no 'twas a knot in my thread. 
There goes the kettle I'll make the tea." 

Ainslee's Magazine Edna St. Vincent Millay 


Even as a hawk's in the large heaven's hollow 
Are the great ways and gracious of y,our love, 

No lesser heart or wearier wing may follow 
In those broad gyres where you rest and move. 

Most merciless, most high, most proud, most lonely 
In the clear space between the sky and sea 

Wheel her huge orbits, where the sea-winds only 
Wander the sun-roads of Immensity. 

Yet have I known your heart and of what fashion 
Your love, how great, how hardly to be borne 

Your tenderness, too perfect for compassion, 
Your divine strength, too pure and proud for scorn. 

You are most beautiful; though it is given 

But few to find you, fewer still to keep 
Your high path through the solitude of heaven, 

My lonely one, your watch upon the Deep. 

Now toward the gold glow of the sunset's splendour 
Veer your great vans what haven in the west 

Now draws you while the mellowing light makes 

Your dripping plumes what islands of the blest? 

Lift me, lif t me up to you forever, 
Beautiful Terror! Let your sacred might 

Stoop to me here and save O let me never 
Sink from you now to share a lesser flight' 

Even as I pray my wings of longing fail me, 
And my heart flags. In solitude you move 

Down the night's shore not praying shall avail me 
To lift me, fallen from your faultless love. 

The Freeman John Hall Wheelock 


You sent me a sprig of mignonette, 

Cool-colored, quiet, and it was wet 

With green sea-spray, and the salt and the sweet 

Mingled to a fragrance weary and discreet 

As a harp played softly in a great room at sunset. 

You said: "My sober mignonette 

Will brighten your room and you will not forget." 

But I have pressed your flower and laid it away 

In a letter, tied with a ribbon knot. 

I have not forgot. 

But there is a passion-flower in my vase 

Standing above a close-cleared space 

In the midst of a jumble of papers and books. 

The passion-flower holds my eyes, 

And the light-under-light of its blue and purple dyes 

Is a hot surprise. 


How then can. I keep my looks 

Prom the passion-flower leaning sharply over the books? 

When one has seen 

The difficult magnificence of a queen 

On one's table, 

Is one able 

To observe any color in a mignonette ? 

I will not think of sunset, I crave the dawn, 

With its rose-red light on the wings of a swan, 

And a queen pacing slowly through the Parthenon, 

Her dress a stare of purple between pillars of stone. 

The Bookman Amy Lowett 


What are the Islands to me, 
what is Greece, 
what is Rhodes, Samoa, Chios, 
what is Paros facing west, 
what is Crete 5 

What is Samothrace, 

rising like a ship, 

what is Imbros redning the storm-waves 

with its breast ? 

What is Naxos, Paros, Milos, 
what the circle about Lycia, 
what, the Cyclades' 
white necklace? 

What is Greece 
Sparta, rising like a rock, 
Thebes, Athens, 
what is Corinth? 


What is Euboia 

with, its island, violets, 

what is Euboia, spread with, grass, 

set with, swift shoals, 

what is Crete 9 

"What are the islands to me, 
wliat is Greece 51 


Wnat can love of land give to me 
that you liave n.ot - 
Tvltat do tlae tall Spartans Icno-w, 
and gentler Attic folk? 

"Wliat lias Sparta and Iier womten 
naore titan this 9 

"What are the islands to me 
if you are lost - 

is Naxos, Tinos, Andros, 
and I>elos, the clasp 
of the Tvhite necklace? 


TVhat can love of land give to me 

that you have not, can. love of strife break in. me 

that you h.a ve not 3 

Though. Sparta enter Athens, 

salt, rising to wreak terror 

Thebes wrack Sparta, 

each changes as water, 

and fall back. 



"What has love of land given to you 
tliat I have not?" 

X have questioned Tynans 

where they sat 

on the black ships, 

weighted with rich stuffs, 

I have asked the Greeks 

from the -white ships, 

and Greeks from ships whose hulks 

lay on the wet sand, scarlet 

with great beaks. 

X have asked bright Tyrians 

and tall Greeks 

**what has love of land given you?" 

And they answered "peace. '* 

But beauty is set apart, 
beauty is cast by the sea, 
a barren rock, 
beauty is set about 
with "wrecks of ships, 
upon our coasts, death keeps 
the shallows death waits 
clutching toward us 
from the deeps. 

Beauty is set apart, 
the winds that slash its beach, 
swirl the coarse sand 
upward toward the rocks. 

Beauty is set apart 
from the islands 
and from Greece* 



In my garden, 

the winds have beaten 

the rape hhes; 

in my garden, the salt 

has wilted the first flakes 

of young narcissus, 

and the lesser hyacinth 

and the salt has crept 

under the leaves of the white hyacinth. 

In my garden 

even the wind-flowers lie flat, 

broken by the wind at last. 


What are the islands to me 
if you are lost, 
what is Faros to me 
if your eyes draw back, 
what is Milos 

if you take fright of beauty, 
terrible, torturous, isolated, 
a barren rack? 

What is Rhodes, Crete, 
what is Paros facing west, 
what, white Imbros? 

What are the islands to me 

if you hesitate, 

what is Greece if you draw back 

from the terror 

and cold splendor of song 

and its bleak sacrifice ? 

The North American Review Mrs. Richard Aldington 



O Earth you are too dear to-night, 

How can I sleep, while all around 
Floats rainy fragrance and the far 

Deep voice of the ocean that talks to the ground? 

O Earth, you gave me all I have, 
I love you, I love you, oh what have I 

That I can give you in return 
Except my body after I die? 


I thought of you and how you love this beauty, 
And walking up the long beach all alone, 

I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder 
As you and I once heard their monotone 

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me 
The cold and sparkling silver of the sea 

We two will pass through death and ages lengthen 
Before you hear that sound again with me. 



Oh day of fire and sun, 

Pure as a naked flame, 
Blue sea, blue sky and dun 

Sands where he spoke my name; 


Laughter and hearts so high x 
That the spirit flew off free, 

Lifting into the sky, 
Diving into the sea, 

Oh day of fire and sun 
Like a crystal burning, 

Slow days go one by one, 
But you have no returning. 



If there is any life when death is over, 

These tawny beaches will know much of me, 

I shall come back, as constant and as changeful 
As the unchanging, many-colored sea 

If life was small, if it has made me scornful, 
Forgive me; I shall straighten like a flame 

In the great calm of death, and if you want me 
Stand on the sun-swept dunes and call my name. 

The Bookman Sara Teasdale 


Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, 
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold. 

Let it be forgotten forever and ever 
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. 

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten 

Long and long ago 
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall 

In a long forgotten snow. 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Sara Teasdale 



When my young Soul went first to ride 

And take the air, 
I stitched a gown of finest words 

ITor her to wear, 
Lacy-white, and ribbon-tied 

With doting care. 

When next my Soul fared out, she wore 

Plain garb and grey; 
Close-buttoned from her chin to feet 

She rode away; 
Behind a double-bolted door 

Her finery lay. 

Now, when my Soul rides out, I fold 

With strictest care 
Each slightest garment stern away, 

And loose her hair, 
Godiva-shy, Godiva-bold, 

She takes the air. 

The Nation Florence Jenney 


(Madame Olga Petrova.) 

The pomp of capitals long left to rust 

Glows in her flesh and her ironic eyes. 

Gazing on her, old pageantries arise 
Of queens and splendid courtesans,, whose lust 
Was power to loot a peacock throne, or thrust 

Satraps to battle for their beauty's prize. 

Thus Theodora flaunted, and none otherwise 
La Pompadour and Lais gone to dust. 


Her wit is a keen weapon wrought for war 

Against the grayness of democracy. 
No broadsword this, but a bright scimitar, 

Tempered in flame and edged with subtlety. 
Her art is life; in braver days than this 
She would have throned it with Semiramis 

Ainslee's Magazine Walter Adolphe Roberts 


Lilith, Lilith wept for the moon 

Its icy beauty troubled her sleep, 
Stirred and thrilled her breast with a tune 

Of crystal notes that fluttered the deep. 
Climbing up the tower of light, 

She sought the sound and followed the flame; 
Cold as snow, implacably white, 

The moon spun high and muttered her name. 

White as Adam's body of yore 

And like that flesh she never could thrill, 
Far and pale as Paradise door, 

The vision flooded meadow and hill. . . . 
She, the flame, the passionate flower, 

Awoke and cried for waking so soon. . . . 
In a glimmering, scented, sleepless bower, 

Lilith, Lilith wept for the moon. 

New York Sun Books and Herberts. Gorman 

the Book World 


Her eyes are sunlit hazel 

Soft shadows round, them play. 
Her dark hair, smoothly ordered, 

Is faintly touched -with grey. 
IFull o a gentle brightness 

Her look and language are 
Kind tongue that never wounded, 

Sweet mirth that leaves no scar. 

Her dresses are soft lilac 

And silver-pearly grey. 
She wears, on meet occasion., 

]Vodes of a bygone day, 
Yet moves with bright composure 

In fashion's pageant set, 
"Until her world she teaches 

Its costume to forget 

"With score of friends foregathered 

Before a cheerful blaze, 
She loves good ranging converse 

Of past and future days 
Her best delight (too seldom) 

From olden friends to hear 
How fares the small old city 

She left this many a year. 

(There is a still more pleasant, 

A cosier converse still, 
When, all the guests departed, 

Close comrades talk their fill. 
Beside our smouldering fire 

"We muse and wonder late ; 
Commingling household gossip 

"With talk of gods and fate.) 

All seemly ways of living, 

Proportion, comeliness* 
Authority and order, 

Her loyal heart possess. 
Then with what happy fingers 

She spreads the linen fair 
In that great Church of Bishops 

That is her darling care ' 

And yet I dare to forecast 

What her new name must be 
Writ in the mystic volume 

Beside the crystal sea 
Instead of "True Believer," 

The golden quill hath penned, 
"Of the poor beasts that perish, 

The brave and gentle friend." 

Scribner's Magazine Sarah N. Cleghorn 



Her eyes hold black whips 

dart of a whip 

lashing, nay, flicking, 

nay, merely caressing 

the hide of a heart 
and a broncho tears through canyons 

walls reverberating, 

sluggish streams 

shaken to rapids and torrents, 

storm destroying 

silence and solitude ! 

Her eyes throw black Ia.ria.t3 

one for bead, 

one fox Ins It eels - 
and the beast; lies vanqu.ish.edL 

walls still, 

streams still, 

except for a tarn, 

or Is it a pool, 

or is it a whirlpool 

twitching with, memory? 



Her hair 
is a tent 

held down by two pegs 

ears, very likely - 
where two gypsies - 

lips, dull folk: call them - 
read your soul away 
one promising something, 
the other stealing it. 

If tlie pegs would let go - 

why is it they're hidden' 1 - 
and the tent 

blow a-way - drop away 
like a Tvig - or a nest - 

you'd escape 
paying com 
*o gypsies - 

maybe - 


Blue veins 

of morning glories - 
blue veins 


of clouds 
blue veins 

bring deep-toned silence 

after a storm. 
White horns 

of morning glories 
white flutes 

of clouds 
sextettes hold silence fast, 

cup it for aye. 
Could I 

blow morning glories 
could I 

lip clouds 
I'd sound the silence 

her hands bring to me. 
Had I 

the yester sun 
had I 

the morrow's 
brush them like cymbals, 

I'd then sound the noise. 



Her body gleams 
like an altar candle 
white in the dark 
and modulates 
to voluptuous bronze 
bronze of a sea 
under the flame. 

The Dial Alfred Kreymborg 


Christ said, "Mary," as he walked -within the garden 
The morning that he rose from death, calm and free 

of pain; 
The wounds in his hands and his side no longer burned 


He that once had been a man was a God again 
Christ said, "Mary," as he walked within the garden. 

All in his triumphing, back from the dead, 
With the wind upon his cheek, while the world was new 

to him, 
"Mary" was the first name he ever said 

The first Mary God chose, he looked about the world 

for her 

And saw her walking with the maids of Galilee, 
She stood beside a clumsy-nailed cross above a 


And saw the babe on it she had held at her knee 
Christ praised another Mary whom the saints rebuked 

for wastefulness, 

For he understood them well, all Marys of his day, 
Yes, and of today, too, Marys staid and caring, 
Marys wild and home-loving it was his way. 

Martha and Lazarus talked with Christ at supper-time, 

Martha and Lazarus, of crops and folk and wars, 
But while the food was cleared away, low by the door- 

It was Mary spoke to him, when there were stars 
Not of crops and gossip, not of work and neighbors 

Christ and Mary talked about the wishing to be good 
And the easy falling, and the new beginnings, 

And the way the moon looked, low above the wood. 

Christ said, "Mary," as he walked within the garden, 
Startled, Mary Magdalene raised her tear-stained face. 

That was very long ago, in a far-off country, 
In a far-off country, and a foreign place. 

Still each, year at Easter-time do we think again of her, 
And the other Marys who are dead in the earth, 

Who are dead long ago, but who loved and tended him 
When our Lord was a man, and felt of tears and 

All the Marys of the world, let us pray together now, 

Mary Schwartz, and Mary Brown, and Mary 

Little Mary Donnelly, Mary Holt and Mary Hull, 

Mary Olsen, Mary Morse, all in a line. 
Since it is the Easter-time, and little bells are ringing, 

Let us walk in still pride, with lifting of the head, 
For when he had risen from the grave, as all the world 

"Mary" was the first name that God ever said. 

Contemporary Verse Mary Carolyn Daisies 


They that dwell in shadow 

Perpetually roam 
In leagues of spectral meadow, 

By phantom miles of foam. 
Their lives are very weary, 

And yet they cannot die, 
Leave then- sea-beaches dreary, 

Or change that bitter sky. 

They that dwell in shadow, 

They twitter like dry leaves 
In talk along the meadow, 

And none is glad, or grieves. 
They whisper, whisper only, 

And no man, save he dwell 
Beside those sea-waves lonely 

Knows what it is they tell. 

They that dwell in shadow 

Are neither good nor bad, 
Their hearts are like the meadow, 

Monotonous and sad 
The world has died around them, 

The skies are blank above* 
I happened there and found them 

Their whispers were of love. 

Howard Mumford Jones 
The Midland, 

A Magazine of the Middle West 


Out Out Oul 

When I was young and little, 
And thought only of the mealies and the sun 
And the wet whispering nver water, 
How could I tett what would befall me 
How could I know what should come to me! 

Why did the demons come? 

"Why did they make me bear 

Two bodies at one birth ? 

Ah, they were not like demons 

They were like little helpless man-children, 

Little and hungry, with curling hands and feet, 

Like the son I hoped to bear! 

All the night I screamed 

And all the night I bore them 

Why did the witch-man's drum, beating by my head, 

Why did the witch-man's charms, smelling strong with 


Why did they not keep the demons 
From being born to me? 
My father gave him cowries, 

Cowries and a gun, 

Taken from a white man 
That he killed & year ago 
Slowly, slowly, 
For good and lasting magic 
That the gun should shoot straight. 
None had such a gun' 
And yet the demons came 
At my right breast a demon, 
At my left breast a demon, 
Sucking, sucking. 

Oh, the little hungry mouths, 
Oh, the little curling hands, 
That they will drown tonight! 

OuJ On' Out 

When I was little and young, 

Tumbling laughing in the sunshine, 

How should I know what would come to me? 

How should I know what would befall me 9 

Oul Out Ou' 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Myrtle Eberstein 


Light your cigarette, then, in this shadow, 
And talk to her, your arm engaged with hers. 
Heavily over your heads the eaten maple 
In the dead air of August strains and stirs. 

Her stone-white face, in the lamp-light, turns toward 


Darkly, with time-dark eyes, she questions yon 
Whether this universe is what she thinks it 
Simple and passionate and profound and true 

Or whether, as with a sound of dim disaster, 
A plaintive music brought to a huddled fall, 
Some ancient treachery slides through the heart of 

The last star falling, seen from the utmost wall . 

And you what sinister, far, reserves of laughter, 
What understandings, remote, perplexed, remain 
Unguessed forever by her who is your victim 
Victim, of whom you too are victim again? 

. Come' let us dance once more on the ancient 


Seeing, beneath its strange and recent shape, 
The eternal horror of rock, from which, for ever, 
We toss our tortured hands, to no escape. 

The Thai Conrad Atken 


Behind the high white wall 

There is always a garden 

A lawn, close-clipped and pale, 

Studded with flowers, 

There they have placed a chair 

For the happy guest, 

And slim high-bosomed maidens 

Bring flesh and figs and wine 

In bowls of peacock blue 

Beyond the mmaretted gate 
Go elephants in caravan, 
And horsemen ride through forest tracery 
Of gold and flowers 
To cities 

Arched and white against the sky. 

These are windows 

Opening on a golden world 

Blooming islands on a sea 

Of dim, dust-colored vellum, 

While the ripples 

Painted rhythms, 

Sable characters 

Bear challenge to the wit 

More potent still 

Than half-guessed imagery 

Of illumined page. 

And as the traveller without the wall 

Divines with thirsty heart 

The hidden flash of fountains, 

So to me, among these silent books, 

Is borne the cadence of a desert tongue, 

And beauty blossoms here 

Upon my knees 

The Nation Ida O'Neil 


"How far is it to Babylon? 
Threescore miles and ten. 
Can I get there by candle-light' 
Yes, and back again. " 

And while nurse hummed the old, old rhyme, 
Tucking him in at evening time, 
He dreamed how when he grew a man 
And travelled free, as big men can, 
He'd slip out through the garden gate 
To roads where high adventures wait 
And find the way to Babylon, 
Babylon, far Babylon, 
All silver-towered in the sun ' 

He's travelled free, a man with, men; 
(Bitter the scores of miles and ten ') 
And now face down by Babylon's wall 
He sleeps, nor any more at all 
By morning, noon or candle-light 
Or in the wistful summer night 
To his own garden gate he'll come. 
Young feet that fretted so to roam 
Have missed the road returning home. 

Scribner's Magazine Margaret Adelaide Wilson 


Gray are the gardens of our Celtic lands, 

Dreaming and gray, 

Tended by the devotion of pale hands, 

On. barren crags, or by disastrous sands, 

That night and day 

Are drenched with bitter spray 

There rosemary and thyme are plentiful, 

Larkspur that lovers cull, 

Love-in-the-mist that is most sorrowful 

flowers so wistful that our teardrops start. . . . 

Scarcely one understands that regal, rare, 

Bravely the tiger lily blossoms there, 

Bravely apart 

Our gardens are enamored of the spring, 
Of silver rain, 

The cloudy green of buds slow-burgeoning, 
The sorrow of last apple blooms that cling 
And are not fain 
To yield their fruit again. 
We do not long for tropic pageantry, 
Yet surge with love to see 
The tiger lily's muted ecstasy 
Watered by mist and lashed by wind-blown rime, 


She is no alien thing; but vivid, free, 
She has no heed for paler rosemary, 
Larkspur or thyme 

It is in vain they worship her who knows 

Pity nor pride 

Their petals whirl down every wind that goes 

South to the palms or northward to the snows. 

Mourning they died 

So distant from her side 

But the brave tiger lily blossoms on, 

Never to be undone 

Till the last rosemary and thyme are gone. 

Tattered by autumn storms, she will not fling 

Herself to sullen foes. The winter rain 

Alone can beat her down, to bloom again 

Spring after spring 

Ainalee's Magazine Walter Adolphe Roberts 


We are the deathless dreamers of the world. 
Errant and sad, our argosies must go 
On barren quests and all the winds that blow 

Lure us to battle where tall seas are hurled. 

When over us the last ninth wave has curled, 
We are renascent still The gods bestow 
Madness that lifts us on the ebb and flow. 

The flags of our defeat are never furled. 

We were not born to find the golden fleece, 

Or win some white queen's love, or storm the stars. 

Yet, by great Pan, we were not born for peace J 

One prize is ours beauty, time shall not slay: 
Terrible beauty from disastrous wars, 

Mystical beauty from the realms of fey. 

Ainslee's Magazine Walter Adolphe Roberts 



Three school-girls pass this way each day. 
Two of them go in the fluttery way 
Of girls, with all that girlhood buys; 
But one goes with a dream in her eyes. 

Two of them have the eyes of girls 
Whose hair is learning scorn of curls,, 
But the eyes of one are like wide doors 
Opening out on misted shores 

And they will go as they go to-day 
On to the end of life's short way; 
Two will have what living buys, 
And one will have the dream in her eyes. 

Two will die as many must, 
And fitly dust will welcome dust, 
But dust has nothing to do with one 
She dies as soon as her dream is done. 

The Century Magazine Hazel Hall 


I walked my fastest down the twilight street; 

Sometimes I ran a little, it was so late 
At first the houses echoed back my feet, 

Then the path softened just before our gate 
Even in the dusk I saw, even in my haste, 

Lawn-tracks and gravel-marks. *' That's where 

The scooter and the cart these lines have traced, 

And Baby wheels her doll here, sunny days " 
Our door was open, on the porch still lay 

Ungathered toys; our hearth-light cut the gloam; 

"Within, round table-candles, you and they. 

And I called out, I shouted, "I am come home!" 
At first you heard not, then you raised your eyes, 
Watched me a moment and showed no surprise. 

Such dreams we have had often, when we stood 

Thought-struck amid the merciful routine, 
And distance more than danger chilled the blood, 

When we looked back and saw what lay between; 
Like ghosts that have their portion of farewell, 

Yet will be looking in on life again, 
And see old faces, and have news to tell, 

But no one heeds them; they are phantom men. 
Now home indeed, and old loves greet us back. 
Yet shall we say it ? something here we hick, 

Some reach and climax we have left behind. 
And something here is dead, that without sound 
Moves lips at us and beckons, shadow-bound, 

But what it means, we cannot call to mind. 

Harper's Magazine John EraMne 


Four faces in the dark, 
Eight eyes aglow 
With the pale lunar spark 
Fireflies do show. 

Four brows, specter-white, 
Crowned with lambent hair;- 
Only in the blackest night 
Are these things there 

Eight lips that question me, 
Moving to and fro; 
Quiet as shadows be 
On new-fallen snow, 

Eight hands Beckoning, 
Spindrift of the wind, 
Past all mortal reckoning 
Are phantoms of the mind. 

Deep, return to deep again, 
And old dreams fade 
Children, let me sleep again, 
Calm and unafraid 

The Outlook Harold Trowbndge Pulsrfer 


A fitting benediction of words 

Stood, one by one, upon 

The warped threshold of your mouth. 

Dreams are wandering realities 
Stooping to pick stray roadside flowers 
And making silent boutonnieres. 
Silent drops of mockery. 
And since the flowers quickly die, 
Dreams must ever walk with closed eyes. 

Hearing you, the dream I held 
Opened its eyes and perished. 

The Dial Maxwell Boderiheim 


It's just a heap of ruin, 

A drunken brick carouse 

This thing my spirit grew in 
That once was called a house. 

An attic where I scribbled 

Through baking summer days, 
While street-pianos nibbled 

At the patient Marseillaise. 

The spider-landlord squatted 

In a web of dinner-smells, 
And people slowly rotted 

In little gossip-hells. 

I hated all I learned there 

And yet I could have cried 
For a little oil I burned there, 

A little dream that died 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Louisa Brooke 


The white-walled Rome of an unwritten epic, 
Spreading like the waters of a new well run; 

Drmking at the lips of a clear green river 

Rising in the fountains and the wells of the sun! 

Nothing of imperial dust in her cellars, 
Nothing of the torn old tower and dome; 

Mistress of her clean white halls unhaunted 
City of the sunrise, altar, and home! 

City of the sunrise hills unhaunted 
By the skulls of kings and the nbs of decay; 

Seeded in the earth like a clean deep tap-root 
The granite in the oak of her boughs today! 

A white ship built in a cool green forest 

And launched with the green leaves fresh on her bow, 
Sun on her sails and foam on her anchors, 

Halfway out on her maiden trip now ! 

The clean new Home of an unwritten epic, 
Spreading to the borders of a universal dream, 

A white ship launched on a universal river, 
Steering for the sun at the mouth of the stream! 

The Natwn Aloysvus Cott 


(Washington, August, 1918} 

I have seen this city in the day and the sun 
I have seen this city in the night and the moon 
And in the night and the moon I have seen a thing this 
city gave me nothing of in the day and the sun 

The float of the dome in the day and the sun is one 

The float of the dome in the night and the moon is 

another thing 
In the night and the moon the float of the dome is a 

dream- whisper, a croon of a hope "Not today, 
child, not today, lover, maybe tomorrow, child, 

maybe tomorrow, lover " 

Can a dome of iron dream deeper than living men? 

Can the float of a shape hovering among tree-tops 
can this speak an oratory sad, singing and red 
beyond the speech of the living men ? 

A mother of men, a sister, a lover, a woman past the 

dreams of the living 
Does she go sad, singing and red out of the float of this 


There is ... something . . here . . . men die for. 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Carl Sandburg 



Her faith abandoned and her place despised, 

Her mission lost through ridicule, hooted forth 

From the forum she erected, by cat calls, 

And tory sneers and schemes. Her basic law 

Scoffed out of court, amended at the need 

Of stomachology by the judges, or 

A majority of States,, as it is said 

Rather by drunks and grafters, for the time 

The spokesmen of the States, coerced and scared 

By Methodists with a fund to hire spies, 

And unearth women scrapes, or other sins 

With which to say: Vote dry, or be exposed. 

A marsh Atlantis drifting, towed at last 

By pirates into harbor, made a pasture 

For alien hatreds, greeds A shackled press, 

And voices gagged, creative spirits frozen, 

Obtunded by disgust or fear. War only, 

Armies and navies speak the national mind, 

And make it move as a man; for other things 

Resistance, thought divided, ostracism, 

Or jail for their protagonists. At the mast 

The cross above the cross-bones, in between 

The starry banner. A people hatched like chickens: 

Of feeble spirit for much niter-crossing, 

Without vision and without will, incapable 

Of lusty revolution whatever right 

Is spit upon or taken. A wriggling mass 

Bemused and babbling, trampling private right 

As a tyrant tramples it, calling it law 

Because it speaks the majority of the mob 

A land that breeds the reformer, the infuriate 

Will in the shallow mmd,the plague of frogs 

That hop into our rooms at Pharaoh's will, 

And spoil our banquet dishes, hour of joy. 

A giantess growing huger, duller of mind, 

Her gland pituitary being injured! 

The Nation Edgar Lee Master* 



You talk of this and that, of that and this- 
Have you ever tried, since you've been over here, 
Just being a plain American, my friend? 

Have you ever lived in one of our little towns, 
Worked side by side with fellow-citizens 
And shared the ups and downs of life with them? 
Have you ever honestly striven to accept 
This country of ours that has accepted you? 
If you have not, what right have you to speak? 

Have you ever been upon our Western plains 

Waving with untold miles of ripened wheat? 

Have you known our mountains and our farms and 


Our townships and our populated cities 
Or got into the inside of our life 
Built up through years of order, progress, law? 
If you have not, what right have you to speak? 

Do you think, that what the Pilgrim Fathers sought, 

Yes, sought and/oMTid, was sought and found m vain? 

Is Washington a myth and name to you? 

Have you ever learned from Franklin's homely wisdom 

Or from the large humanity of Lincoln 

Or studied in the school of our great men 

From whom we draw our widening heritage? 

If you have not, what right have you to speak? 

You talk of this and that, of that and this. 
Have you ever tried, since you've been over here, 
Just being a plain American, my friend? 
// you have not, what right have you to speak 9 

The Outlook Harry Kemp 



The transports move stealthily to sea 

The sea so prone to take strange freightage eagerly 

But this sad freightage even the sea disowns 

And lifts its storms and frowns in darker mood 

And never was a cargo more adrift . . . 

There are no ports, no country's flag, no waiting hands 

In any land on earth for it 

Nor any home to take it in. 

And all the prisons are too proud. 

Mayflower 1 Ships of Columbus! 

And frigates and vessels of wood and of steel, 

With your cargoes of gifts and your graces! 

swift laughing sails like fluttering garments of girls 

Running down soft green slopes 

To a dance with their lovers at Fair tune ! 

O all the brave prows that advance to these shores 

Like believers to the rail at communion! 

Be blind 1 Turn away from those ships, from those 

Do not think these the cargoes we send out from our 


These of the darkness, in the night, in secrecy, 
Under sealed orders! 

O Liberty! Mother! with your head proudly erect 
And your regal brow confident 
And your uplifted arm 

Hailing far children of earth to your sheltering; 
O Liberty! Mother who nurses back to full strength 
The offspring of breasts that are empty, 
Who gives and who trusts and who welcomes in limit- 
less trusting' 

Do not look down at these ships as they pass 
Purring like cats that are clawing their kill 
Oh, do not notice! 

The New York Sun Kathryn White Ryan 



To Bombay and Capetown, and ports of a hundred 


To Mombassa, Panama, and Aden on the sands, 
Red with rust and green with mould, caked with sodden 

The reeling, rolling tankers sail Southward from the 


Southward past the Cornish cliffs, cleft red against the 

They snort and stagger onward with sailors in their 


To the spell of rolling seas and the blue of a windy sky 
While the smoke lies brown to leeward or the liners 

scurry by. 

Thrashing through a tearing gale with a dark green sea 


While the funnel clews sing madly against a sky of red, 
Foam choked and wave choked, scarred by battered 

The long brown decks are whirling seas where silver 

combers rear 

Swinging down a brilliant gulf with shores of brown and 

The snub-nosed, well-decked tankers slowly steam their 

Up the straits to the Pirate Coast and dim harbors of 

the South 
Where they lie like long red patches by a jungle river's 


Contemporary Verse Gordon Malherbe HiUman 



Men who have loved the ships they took to sea, 

Loved the tall masts, the prows that creamed with 

Have learned, deep in then* hearts, how it might be 

That there is yet a dearer thing than home 
The decks they walk, the rigging in the stars, 

The clean boards counted in the watch they keep 
These, and the sunlight on the slippery spars, 

Will haunt them ever, waking and asleep. 

Ashore, these men are not as other men* 

They walk as strangers through the crowded street* 

Or, brooding by their fires, they hear again 

The drone astern, where gurgling waters meet, 

Or see again a wide and blue lagoon, 

And a lone ship that rides there with the moon 

Harper's Magazine David Morton 


People that build their houses inland, 
People that buy a plot of ground 

Shaped like a house and build a house there, 
Par from the seaboard, far from the sound 

Of water sucking the hollow ledges. 
Tons of water striking the shore, 

What do they long for, as I long for 
One salt smell of the sea once more? 

People the waves have not awakened, 
Spanking the boats at the harbor's head, 

What do they long for, as I long for 
Starting up in my inland bed, 

Beating the narrow walls and finding 

Neither a window nor a door, 
Screaming to God for death by drowning 1 

One salt taste of the sea once more? 

Ainalee's Magazine Edna St. Vincent Mittay 


In the dark night I heard a stirring, 
Near me something was purring. 

A voice, deep-throated, spoke 

I litter armies for all easts and wests 

And norths and souths. 

They suckle my girl-goddess breasts, 

And my fierce milk drips from then* mouths. 

The voice sang: 

I do not kill! I, Sekhmet the Lion-headed, I! 
But between my soft hands they die. 

I asked: 

O Sekhmet, Lion-headed one, 
How long shall warring be? 

And Sekhmet deigned to make reply: 


Bold in my faith I grew : 

Dread goddess-cat, you he' 
Warring shall cease! 
My God of love is greater far 
Than you! 


How gentle was the voice of Sekhmet then 

He of the Star? 

He Whom they called the Prince of Peace 

And slew? 

And slew again and yet again? 

Ah, yes ' she said 

And all about my bed 

The night grew laughing-red- 

Sekhmet I did not see 

But in that bleeding dusk I heard 

That Sekhmet purred 

Contemporary Verse Leonora Speyer 


Oh, the lives of men, hues of men, 

In pattern-molds be run; 
Bui there's you, and me, and Bindlestiff 

And remember Mary's Son. 

At dawn the hedges and the wheel-ruts ran 
Into a brightening sky The grass bent low 
With shimmering dew, and many a late wild rose 
Unrolled the petals from its odorous heart 
While birds held tuneful gossip Suddenly, 
Each bubbling trill and whistle hid away 
As from a hawk, the fragrant silence heard 
Only the loving stir of little leaves; 
Then a man's baritone broke roughly in: 

Tve gnawed my crust of mouldy bread, 

Skimmed my mulligan stew; 
laid beneath the barren hedge 

Sleety night-winds blew 


Slanting rain chills my bones, 

Sun bakes my skin; 
Rocky road for my limping feet. 

Door where I can't go in 

Above the hedgerow floated filmy smoke 

Prom the hidden singer's fire. Once more the voice: 

I used to burn the mules with the whip 

When I worked on the gradtng gang; 
But the boss was a crook, and he docked my fay 

Some day that boss will hang 

I used to hve in a six by nine, 

Try to save my dough 
It's a bellful of the chaff of life, 

Feet that up and go. 

The mesh of leafy branches rustled loud, 

Into the road slid Bindlestiff You've seen 

The like of the traveller gaunt humanity 

In stained and broken coat, with untrimmed hedge 

Of rusty beard and curling sunburnt hair, 

His hat, once white, a dull uncertain cone; 

His leathery hands and cheeks, his bright blue eyes 

That always see new faces and strange dogs; 

His mouth that laughs at life and at himself. 

Sometimes they shut you up in jail 

Dark, and a filthy cell; 
I hope the fellows built them jails 

Find 'em down in hell 

Sut up above, you can sleep outdoors 

Feed you like a king; 
You never have to saw no wood, 

Only job is sing. 

The tones came mellower, as unevenly 
The tramp limped off trailing the hobo song: 


Good-bye, farewell to Omaha, 

K. C , and Denver, too; 
Put my foot on the flying freight* 

Going to ride her through. 

Bmdlestiff topped a hillock, against the sky 
Showed stick and bundle with his extra shoes 
Jauntily dangling Bird to bird once more 
Made low sweet answer, in the wild rose cups 
The bee found yellow meal, all softly moved 
The white and purple morning-glory bells 
As on the gently rustling hedgetop leaves 
The sun's face rested. Bindlestiff was gone. 

Ok, the lives of men, lives of men, 

In pattern-molds be run; 
But there's you, and me, and Bindlestiff 

And remember Mary's Son. 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Edwin Ford Piper 


I saw by looking in his eyes 
That they remembered everything; 
And this was how I came to know 
That he was here, still wandering. 
For though the figure and the scene 
Were never to be reconciled, 
I knew the man as I had known 
His image when I was a child. 

With evidence at every turn, 
I should have held it safe to guess 
That all the newness of New York 
Had nothing new in loneliness; 
Yet here was one who might be Noah, 
Or Nathan, or Abimelech, 
Or Lamech, out of ages lost, 
Or, more than all, Melchizedek. 

Assured that he was none of these, 
I gave them back their names again* 
To scan once more those endless eyes 
"Where all my questions ended, then. 
I found in them what they revealed 
That I shall not live to forget, 
And wondered if they found in mine 
Compassion that I might regret. 

Pity, I learned, was not the least 
Of time's offending benefits 
That had now for so long impugned 
The conservation of his -writs - 
Hather it was that I should yield, 
Alone, the fealty that presents 
The tribute of a tempered ear 
To an untempered eloquence. 

Before I pondered long enough 

On whence he came and who he was, 

I trembled at his ringing wealth 

Of manifold anathemas, 

I wondered, while he seared the world, 

"What new defection ailed the race, 

And if it mattered how remote 

Our fathers were from such a place. 

Before there was an hour for me 
To contemplate with less concern 
The crumbling realm awaiting us 
Than his that was beyond return, 
A dawning on the dust of years 
Bad shaped with an elusive light 
Mlirages of remembered scenes 
That were no longer for the sight. 

3?or now the gloom that hid the man 
Became a daylight on his wrath, 
And one -wherein my fancy viewed 
New lions ramping in his path. 

Tfae old -were dead and had no fangs, 
Wherefore he loved them seeing not 
They were the same that in their time 
Sad eaten everything they caught. 

The "world around him was a gift 
Of anguish to his eyes and ears, 
And one that he had long reviled 
As fit for devils, not for seers. 
Where, then, was there a place for him 
That on this other side of death 
Saw nothing good, as he had seen 
No good come out of Nazareth? 

Yet here there was a reticence, 
And I believe his only one* 
That hushed him as if he beheld 
A Presence that would not be gone. 
Zn such a silence he confessed 
How much there was to be denied; 
And he would look at me and live, 
As others might have looked and died. 

As if at last he knew again 
That he had always known, his eyes 
Were like to those of one who gazed 
On those of One who never dies. 
!For such a moment he revealed 
What life has in it to be lost; 
And X could ask if what I saw, 
Before me there, was man or ghost. 

He may have died so many times 
That all there was of him to see 
Was pride, that kept itself alive 
As too rebellious to be free; 
He may have told, when more than once 
Humility seemed imminent, 
How many a lonely time in vain 
The Second Coming came and went. 

Whether lie still defies or not 
The failure of an angry task 
That relegates him out of time 
To chaos, I can only ask. 
But as I knew him, so he was; 
And somewhere among men today 
Those old, unyielding eyes may flash, 
And flinch and look the other way 

The Outlook Edwin Arlington Robinson 


"Maximilian Marvelous," we called him for a joke; 
He used to pass us every day, but rarely ever spoke 
The shoes he wore were scandalous they did not fit 

his feet, 
In tattered coat and greasy shirt he shuffled down the 

When once we stopped Max solemnly, to pass the time 

of day, 

He looked at us, half-doubting, in a hesitating way, 
And when we asked him if 'twere true that he was once 

a king 
Of some forgotten island, where the South Sea maidens 


Lo! Maximilian Marvelous gave us a withering smile 
I'll ne'er forget his answer, as it came in vigorous style* 
*'I am a king of everything my roving eyes survey. 
My kingdom's built of sun-ht bowers where little 

children play, 

My sceptre's made of jeweled song that wakes old vil- 
lage lanes, 
My banquet hall is piled with dreams that romp in 

April rams 
The great, wide world is my estate, but here I choose to 


I married Lady Poverty, and I am satisfied. 

I do not work kings never work; why should I soil 

my hands? 

I am the ruler of my time, for town or meadow lands. 
Perhaps I am an artist, then I paint the sunset sky; 
Perhaps I am a poet when the days of Autumn die. 
I eat one square meal every day, its source nobody 


And he who gives it to me sees I also get some clothes. 
The sun and rains are friends of mine, the stars are my 

They bring me thoughts of childhood when my mother's 

eyes were bnght. 

I am a king of everything that money cannot buy. 
The richest man on earth, like me, must some day fade 

and die " 

Then Maximilian Marvelous said not another thing; 
And as he walked away we cried, "He's every inch a 

a king!" 

New York Times J Coraon Miller 


Every year Emily Dickinson sent one friend 
the first arbutus bud in her garden. 

In a last will and testament Andrew Jackson 
remembered a friend with the gift of George 
Washington's pocket spy-glass 

Napoleon too, in a last testament, mentioned a silver 
watch taken from the bedroom of Frederick the Great, 
and passed along this trophy to a particular friend. 

O. Henry took a blood carnation from his coat lapel 
and handed it to a country girl starting work in a 
bean bazaar, and scribbled: "Peach blossoms may or 
may not stay pink in city dust " 

So it goes. Some things we buy, some not 

Tom Jefferson was proud of his radishes, and Abe 

blacked his own boots, and Bismarck called Berlin a 

wilderness of brick and newspapers. 

So it goes. There are accomplished facts. 
Bide, ride, ride on in the great new blimps 
Cross unheard-of oceans, circle the planet. 
When you come back we may sit by five hollyhocks. 
We might listen to boys fighting for marbles. 
The grasshopper will look good to us 

So it goes .... 
Poetry t A Magazine of Verse Carl Sandburg 


(The Birthday of Horace} 

This festal day, two thousand times returning, 
Should light fresh fires on all the altar-sods 

His natal day 1 we should set incense burning, 
And call if gods there were upon the gods. 

We, his good friends, right joyous should demean us, 

Like Horace on the birthday of Maecenas. 

Eheu! we lack all Persian apparatus 
The wine, the nard, the rose's tardy bloom; 

No troops of saucy home-bred slaves await us, 
Nor polished silver in the fire-lit room; 

And as for lyres and lutes of sound convention, 

The H. C. L. forbids their very mention. 

Around our board what cronies he'd find missing: 
No Tyndaris, no Cyrus and no quarrel! 

No Telephus with his tantalizing kissing, 
No Cervuis droning his long-winded moral. 

No Thaliarch to push the lagging Massic ! 

What in our party, then, would he find classic? 

There is one thing would save us from disaster, 
And mate our feast right worthy of the day; 

A fitting tribute to the lyric master 
I mean, of course, an Ode by F. P. A. 

Give us but that; 'twere the whole celebration 

In Horace's and in our estimation. 

The Nation George Meason Whicker 


A Child on the Street 

Strange that she can keep with ease 
A pace so free and fleet, 
When such relentless destinies 
Stalk at her feet. 

Strange she does not see the blur 
Where their shadows mn 
With her footfall, sinister 
In the sun. 

Some are vague as shadow cast 
By clouds where long hills dip, 
And some sharp like the broken mast 
Of A drifted ship. 

Still with her incredulous tread 
Defying the darkened ground, 
She keeps a pace whose echoes shed 
Laughing sound. 


And still close at her tripping heel 
The old shadows stir, 
Deepening as they steal 
Nearer her. 

A. Very Old Woman 

She passes by though long ago 
Time drained the life out of her tread; 
She died then, yet she does not know 
That she is dead 

Her footsteps are indefinite 

With sound, and who are dead should pass 

Sandaled as the wind when. it 

Moves through the grass. 

Her shadow twitches on the walk, 
And who are not of hf e should run 
Shadowless as a lily's stalk 
In full day's sun. 

Yet these cling to her stricken sound 
And shadow casting ragged stains, 
They drag behind her on the ground 
Like broken chains. 

It is silence mastering her tread, 
Darkness, insidious and slow, 
Blotting her imprint . . . but she is dead 
And does not 

The New Republic Hazel Hall 



Bed is the boon for me ' 
It's -well to bake and sweep, 
But hear the -word of old Lizette: 
It's better than all to sleep 

Summer and flowers are gay, 
And morning light and dew, 
But aged eyelids love the dark 
"Where never a light seeps through. 

What ' open-eyed, my dears, 
Thinking your hearts will break' 
There's nothing, nothing, nothing, I say, 
That's worth the lying awake ! 

I learned it in my youth 
Love I was dreaming of 
I learned it from the needle-work 
That took the place of love. 

I learned it from the years 
And what they brought about, 
From song, and from the hills of joy 
Where sorrow sought me out. 

It's good to dream and turn, 
And turn and dream, or fall 
To comfort with my pack of bones, 
And know of nothing at all! 

Yes, never know at all 
If prowlers mew or l>ark, 
Nor wonder if it's three o'clock 
Or four o'clock of the dark 

When the longer shades have fallen 
And the last weariness 
Mas brought the sweetest gift of life, 
The last f orgetfulness, 

If a sound as of old leaves 

Stir the last bed I keep, 

Then say, my dears' "It's old Lizette 

She's turning in her sleep." 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Agnes Lee 


The ways of the world are a-conung up Cyarr! 

Biled shirts and neckties, 

Powder-pots and veils, 

Pizen f otched-on liquor, 

Doctor-pills, and ails 
Hit's a sight, all the brash that's a-coming up Cyarr! 

The ways of the mountains are passing up Cyarr! 

Moonshine stills and manhood, 

Gear to weave and spin, 

Good old Beg'lar Baptists 

Preaching hell for sin. 
Far'well to the old ways a-passing up Cyarr! 

The ways of the world will be holding up Cyarr! 

Sorry ways, the old ways, 

They've a call to go. 

Only, when you're grave-bound, 

Changmg's allus slow 
Old folks will bide by the old ways up Cyarr. 

The Outlook Ann Gobi 

(Of ike Settlement School, 
Hindman, Knatt County, Kentucky,) 


I've brung you my three babes, that lost their Maw a 
year ago. * 

Folks claim you are right women, larnd, and fitten for 
to know 

What's best for babes, and how to raise 'em into Chris- 
tian men 

I've growed afeared to leave 'em lest the house ketch 
fire again 

For though I counsel 'em a sight each time I ride to 

Little chaps get so sleepy-headed when the dark comes 

A body can make shift somehow to feed 'em up of days, 
But nights they need a woman-person's foolish little 

(When all of t'other young things are tucked under 

mammy's wing, 
And the hoot-owls and the frogs and all the lonesome 

critters sing). 

You'll baby *em a little when you get 5 em in their gown? 
Little chaps get so sleepy-headed when the dark comes 

down I 

The Outlook Ann Cdbb 

(Of ike SctUanent School, 
Hindman, Knott County, Kentucky.) 


Yes, I've sev'ral kivers you can see; 
'Light, and hitch your beastie in the shade! 
I don't f oiler weaving now so free, 
And all my purtiest ones my forebears made 
Home-dyed colors kindly meller down 
Better than these new fotched-on ones from town, 

I ricollect my granny at the loom 
Weaving that blue one yonder on the bed. 
She put the shuttle by and laid in tomb 
Her word was I could daim hit when I wed. 
"Flower of Edmboro' " was hit's name, 
Betokening the land from which she came. 

Nary a daughter have I for the boon, 

But there's my son's wife, from the level land, 

She took the night with us at harvest-moon, 

A comely, fair young maid, with loving hand. 

I gave her three "Sunrise" and "Trailing Vine" 

And "Young Man's Fancy." She admired 'em fine. 

That green one mostly wrops around the bread, 
"Tennessee Lace" I take to ride behind. 
Hither and yon right smart of them have fled 
Inside the chest I keep my choicest kind 
"Pine-Bloom," and "St. Ann's Robe" (of hickory 

"Star of the East" (that yaUer's fading down') 

The Rose? I wove hit courting, long ago, 
Not Simon, though he's proper kind of heart 
His name was Hugh the fever laid him low 
I allus keep that kiver set apart. 
"Rose of the Valley," he would laugh and say, 
"The kiver's favoring your face today!" 

1 In the Kentucky mountains for generations the sole outlet for 
the artistic sense of the women has been the weaving of woolen 
coverlets, many of them of elaborate pattern and rare beauty. 

The OvOook Ann Cobb 

(Qf the Settlement School, 
Hindman, Knatt County, Kentucky.) 


Saddle me up the Zebra Dun 

Whoa, Zebe, whoa! 
Double-cinch the son of a gun 

Whoa, till I bridle you, whoa! 
Foot in the stirrup, straddle him quick 
Pitch and squeal and buck and kick 
Take your gait or the spurs will prick, 

Lope along, you Zebra Dun 

The boys are off for town tonight 

It's a-ridmg, Zebra Dun! 
Playing poker and a-getting tight 

Sift along, O Zebra Dun! 
Bunch of girls at Brown's Hotel 
Knows the steps, and dances well 
Rattlesnake Pete and his fiddle 

Lope along, Zebra Dun 1 

Lights of the town are a-shining clear 

Run, you Zebra Dun' 
Last four weeks seems like a year 

Run, Zebe, run ! 

Yip, yip, yi-yi, yi-yil 

Run, you old, stiff-kneed grasshopper. 

You spiral-spined jackrdbbit, youl 

A-ho, whoopee I 

Brown's Hotel we're bound to see, 
Swing them girls at the dance party, 
One-and-twenty on a moonlight spree 

A-ho, whoopeel 

Whoa, Zebe, whoa! 

Whoa, till I hitch you, whoa! 

Poetry, A Magazine of Ver*e Edwin Ford Piper 




Her scant skirt spreads above her knees. 
Her hands lie folded in her lap 
She looks ahead, and does not shrink 
To see the mixed crowd nudge and gape, 

While dirty men with roving eyes 
Press close and whisper, "Look! 
Tattooed wherever you can see! 
Say, she's a walkin* pitcher-book!" 

Madonna pricked upon her back 
Complacently she lets them view, 
And on the calf of one bare leg, 
Christ crucified tattooed in blue. 



Monsters in trousers baggy and grey, 
With harness of scarlet and brass, 
Trunk looped to tail in rhythmic array 
A frieze on a temple of Asia pass 

Solemnly round the tan-bark track. 
The breasts of the sulky girl in red 
Perched on the leading elephant's back, 
Shake to the lurch of his ponderous tread. 

Then follows a bamboo palanquin, 
Borne by the camels' shambling strength. 
The fringes slap as, jolted within, 
A tawdry sultana reclines at full length. 

Forty dull clowns hobble awkwardly by. 
"Hey f That's my mother!" one leers. 
He points at the charmer, and then at his eye, 
And grins through his painted black tears. 



Tethered to the canvas top 
Undulating shadows writhe 
Snaky flags that seem alive, 
"What an awful way to dropl 
Look how high it is up there. *" 

*' Shucks ' They never get a fall. '* 
" Who's that man. in glossy black 
Satin knee-pants, and the coat 
Red as pepper, on his back?" 

"He's Ring-Master Hear um bawl, 
'All eyes on the center ring I 
Attention, pleasel Attention alll'" 


Stretching her toes until they kiss 

The dizzy roof on her upward swing, 

Blindfolded, Marie makes a spring 

In faultless curve above the abyss. 

The man on another frail trapeze, 

Clipping the bar with supple knees, 

Catches her ankles. The nervous crowd 

Closes its eyes or gasps aloud, 

Watching from very far below, 

Hypnotized, as to and fro, 

The pendulum swings, till they leap apart. 

A mother's hand goes to her heart. 

A boy in uniform shouts or drones, 

fs Soda-pop, candy and ice-cream, cones!" 

Attendants slouch by the ropes and wait 

Unseen among them, watches Fate 

His lips move, counting his deep eyes stare 

Upward at Marie, Queen of the Air. 

Reedy 's Mvrror Vine McCasland 



"Lot 65 John Keats to Fanny Brawne. 
A beauty, gentlemen, and in the best 
Condition. Four leaves, scarcely pressed. 

What am I bid? Five hundred . . . Five . . . Come 

Who'll make it Six? Six hundred. ..." (Pale and 


I dreamed forever in, a sweet unrest 
Of your warm, lucent, million-pleasured breast) 

"Six hundred . . Now Six fifty . . . Are you done?" 

"Seven ... A half . . . Did I hear eight? . . . 
Eight . . . Eight . . 

Who'll make it Nine 5 " (Would that I could survive 
The horrors of a brutal world I hate 

All men and women, saving one, ahve ) 
"Nine fifty . Going . . . Sorry, sir; too late. 

Sold to this party for Nine sixty five." 

The New Republic Louis Untermeyer 


The lawyers, Bob, know too much. 
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall. 
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote, 
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling, 
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash. 
The lawyers know 
a dead man's thoughts too well. 

In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob, 
Too many slippery if s and buts and howevers, 
Too much hereinbefore provided whereas, 
Too many doors to go in and out of. 

When the lawyers are through 

What is there left, Bob? 

Can a mouse nibble at it 

And find enough to fasten a tooth m? 

Why is there always a secret singing 
When a lawyer cashes in? 
Why does a hearse horse snicker 
Hauling a lawyer away? 

The work of a bricklayer goes to the blue. 
The knack of a mason outlasts a moon. 
The hands of a plasterer hold a room together. 
The land of a farmer wishes him back again 

Singers of songs and dreamers of plays 

Build a house no wind blows over. 
The lawyers tell me why a hearse horse snickers 
hauling a lawyer's bones. 

The Dial Carl Sandburg 


They stormed the forts of Nature, 

And marched with blast and drill 

On her bulwark cliffs and sapping swamps, 

Her strength against their skill 

Though her torrents twisted then* bridges 

Like the horns of a mountain ram 

And burst like a hungry tiger 

Through the buttressed walls of their dam; 

They threw out new spans like spiders, 
And copied the beaver's art, 
And broke the desert's slumber 
With bloom in its rainless heart. 


They tunneled her snowy shoulders, 
Or wriggled up like a snake, 
And laced her with iron girders 
Like a martyr lashed to a stake 

And clove her spine-like ridges 
From isthmus shore to shore, 
And plied their mighty dredges 
As she let the landslides pour. 

She was harsh as a fickle mistress, 
And stern as an angered god, 
Then soft as the lap of a mother, 
As they conquered her great untrod. 

From the circles around the Arctics 
To Cancer and Capricorn, 
From the yellow streams of China 
To the base of the Matterhorn , 

They have vanquished their untamed Mother; 
Though she thunders volcanic guns, 
They force her to do their bidding, 
Like masterful rebel sons 

Contemporary Verse Phcebe Hoffman 


Although, I saw before me there the face 
Of one whom I had honored among men 
The least, and on regarding him again 
Would not have had him in another place, 
He fitted with an unfamiliar grace 
The coffin where I could not see him then 
As I had seen him and appraised him when 
I deemed him unessential to the race. 


For tliere was more of him than what I saw 

And there was on me more than the old awe 

That is the common genius of the dead, 

I might as well have heard him: " Never mind; 

If some of us were not so far behind, 

The rest of us were not so far ahead." 

The Dial Edwin Arlington Robinson 


I have on mine no likeness 
To your fairy queenlike face, 

No sign in all my body 
Of any of your grace. 

I might have been a changeling, 
As well have been a son, 

As to grow up your daughter 
And look like anyone. 

But where your two breasts parted 
A small mark darkened you, 

And over my heart's beating 
I have the same scar too. 

A little seal and golden, 

"Whereby it shall be known 
That you have shaped and borne me 

And stamped me as your own! 

Contemporary Verse Winifred Wettea 



I must have passed the crest a while ago 

And now I am going down 
Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know 

But the brambles were always catching the hem of 
my gown. 

All the morning I thought how proud it would be 

To stand there straight as a queen 
Wrapped in the wind and the sun, with the world under 


But the air was dull, there was little I could have 

It was nearly level along the beaten track 
And the brambles caught in my gown 

But it's no use now to think of turning back, 
The rest of the way will be only going down 

Poetry, A Magawne of Verse Sara Teasdale 



She said, "Lift high the cupl" 

Of her arm's weariness she gave no sign, 

But, smiling, raised it up 
That none might see or guess it held no wine. 


Forgive me not' Hate me and I shall know 
Some of lnnfffSifire still burns within your breast! 
Forgiveness finds its home in hearts at rest, 

On dead volcanoes only lies the snow. 


One deep red rose I dropped into his grave, 
So small a thing to give so great a friend! 

Yet well he knew it was my heart I gave 
And must fare on without it to the end 

Harper* s Magazine Litta Cabot Perry 


I, who fade with the lilacs 

And with the roses fade, 
Am sharing this hour with them 

Conferring in the shade. 

Life has not left the wonder 
With which it first began 

To make Pierrot a poet, 
In making fa a man. 

It has not made a rainbow, 

In all the sorry years, 
But was a sailing glory 

Upon a sea of tears. 

Somehow life leaves one stranded 

On shores too near or far, 
Hitching, forever hitching 

Ships shallops to a star. 

New York Sun Books and William Griffith 

ike Book World 


What is dust? 

Ashes of love, charred letters, faded heliotrope, 
Hose petals fallen from a dead hand, 
Spiders, bats, deserted houses, crumbling citadels, 
And wheel ruts where vanished armies have passed. 

Is that all? 

Oh, dust is sun and laughter, 
Circuses, parasols, preening pigeons, 
Lovers picnicking by the roadside, 
And ragamuffins tumbling in the warm lanes. 
Dust is rainbow webs caught in sweet, hot smelling 

And it is dust that keeps my eyes from being blinded 

by the stars! 

Contemporary Verse Dorothy Anderson 


We are walking with the month 

To a quiet place. 

See, only here and there the gentians stand! 

Tonight the homing loon 

Will fly across the moon, 

Over the tired land. 

We were the idlers and the sowers, 
The watchers in the sun, 
The harvesters who laid away the grain. 
Now there's a sign in every vacant tree, 
Now there's a hint in every stubble field, 
Something we must not forget 
When the blossoms fly again. 

Give me your Hand! 

There were too many promises in June. 

Human-tinted buds of spring 

Told only half the truth. 

The withering leaf beneath our feet, 

That wrinkled apple overhead, 

Say more than vital houghs have said 

When we went walking 

In this growing place. 

There is something in this hour 

More honest than a flower 

Or laughter from a sunny face. 

The Century Magazine Scudder M^ddleton 


I have made grief a gorgeous, queenly thing, 

And worn my melancholy with an air. 

My tears were big as stars to deck my hair, 

My silence stunning as a sapphire ring. 

Oh, more than any light the dark could fling 

A glamour over me to make me rare, 

Better than any color I could wear 

The pearly grandeur that the shadows bring. 

What is there left to joy for such as I? 

What throne can dawn upraise for me who found 

The dusk so royal and so rich a one' 

Laughter will whirl and whistle on the sky 

Far from this riot I shall stand uncrowned, 

Disrobed, bereft, an outcast in the sun. 

The North American Renew Wzmfred Welles 



Searching my heart for its true sorrow, 

This is the thing I find to be 
That I am weary of words and people, 

Sick of the city, wanting the sea , 
Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness 

Of the strong wind and shattered spray, 
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound 

Of the big surf that breaks all day. 

Always before about my dooryard, 

Marking the reach of the winter sea, 
Booted in sand and dragging driftwood, 

Straggled the purple wild sweet pea. 
Always I climbed the wave at morning, 

Shook the sand from my shoes at night, 
That now am caught beneath big buildings, 

Stricken with noise, confused with light. 

If I could hear the green piles groaning 

Under the windy, "wooden piers, 
See once again the bobbing barrels, 

And the black sticks that fence the weirs; 
If I could see the weedy mussels 

Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls, 
Hear once again the hungry crying 

Overhead* of the wheeling gulls; 

Feel once again the shanty straining 

Under the turning of the tide, 
Fear once again the rising freshet, 

Dread the bell in the fog outside, 
I should be happy ! that was happy 

All day long on the coast of Maine. 
I have a need to hold and handle 

Shells and anchors and ships again. 


I should be happy, that am happy 

Never at all since I came here. 
I am too long away from water; 

I have a need of water near. 

Ainslee'a Magazine Edna St. Vincent MWay 


Be quiet, worker in my breast: 
You hurt me, pounding so! 

Day and night your hammer rings. 
What you build, I do not know. 

I am tired by your effort. 

I would like to be as still 
As the solitary sheep 

Scattered on the sunny hill. 

Stop your mad, insistent beating! 

Be less eager and more wise' 
You are building nothing lasting. 

Let me lest and close my eyes. 

Harper's Magazine Scudder Middleton 


(In certain parts of the world the custom still prevails of 
tetting the oees that a member of the family has died.) 

Bees, go tell the things he treasured 
Oak and grass and violet 
That although his life was measured 
He is with them yet! 

Tell the wild rose and the clover 
That the earth has made him over! 
Tell the lilting, loitering stream 
He is sharer of its dream ' 
"Whisper to the April wood 
Of his blending in its mood! 
Tell the wind his spirit flows 
In whatever path it blows ' 
Tell the thrush it draws its art 
From the rapture of his heart! 
Bees, to his green shelter bring 
All of earth's bright gossiping: 
Tales of feather, flower, or fur; 
Sap upmountmg, wings astir! 

Now we may no more attend him, 
Bid his loved wild things befriend him ! 

Harper's Magazvne Darnel Henderson 


He did not know that he was dead; 

He walked along the crowded street, 
Smiled, tipped his hat, nodded his head 

To his friends he chanced to meet 

And yet they passed him quietly by 
With an unknowing, level stare, 

They met h?jn with an abstract eye 
As if he were the air 

"Some sorry thing has come to pass," 
The dead man thought, he hurried home, 

And found his wife before her glass, 
Dallying with a comb. 


He found his wife all dressed in black; 

He kissed her mouth, he stroked her head* 
"Men act so strange since I've come back 

From over there, " he said 

She spoke no word, she only smiled. 

But now he heard her say his name, 
And saw her study, grief-beguiled, 

His picture in a frame. 

Then he remembered that black night 
And the great shell-burst, wide and red, 

The sudden plunging into light; 
And knew that he was dead. 

The Century Magazine Harry Kemp 


When you and I are laid away 

In little boxes under grass, 
What will the townsmen say of us 

When overhead they smile and pass? 

"She was a lovely, quiet thing 

Who kept her house so neat and gay. 

She was as much in love with life 
As she is satisfied today " 

"He was the brightest man we had; 

He kept us laughing till he died. 
It seemed he only had to speak, 

And we would chuckle at his side." 

Then you and I will rap the boards 
And call in language of the dead 

But there'll be nothing we can do 
To stop that chatter overhead. 

Harper's Magazine Scudder Middleton 


TO E. T. 

I slumbered with your poems on my breast 
Spread open as I dropped them half read through 
Like dove wings on a figure on a tomb 
To see, if , in a dream they brought of you, 

I might not have the chance I missed in life 
Through some delay, and call you to your face 
First soldier, and then poet, and then both, 
Who died a soldier-poet of your race 

I meant, you meant, that nothing should remain 
Unsaid between us, brother, and this remained 
And one thing more that was not then to say 
The Victory for what it lost and gained. 

You went to meet the shell's embrace of fire 
On Vimy Ridge, and when you fell that day 
The war seemed over more for you than me, 
But now for me than you the other way. 

How over, though, for even me who knew 

The foe thrust back unsafe beyond the Rhine, 

If I was not to speak of it to you 

And see you pleased once more with words of mine? 

The Tale Review Robert Frost 


Ah, how I pity the young dead who gave 
All that they were, and might become, that we 
With tired eyes should watch this perfect sea 
Re- weave its patterning of silver wave 
Round scented cliffs of arbutus and bay. 


No more shall any rose along the way, 
The myrtled way that wanders to the shore, 
Nor jonquil-twinkling meadow any more, 
Nor the warm lavender that takes the spray, 
Smell only of sea-salt and the sun, 

But, through recurring seasons, every one 
Shall speak to us with bps the darkness closes, 
Shall look at us with eyes that missed the roses, 
Clutch us with hands whose work was just begun, 
Laid idle now beneath the earth we tread 

And always we shall walk with the young dead. 
Ah, how I pity the young dead, whose eyes 
Strain through the sod to see these perfect skies, 
Who feel the new wheat springing in their stead, 
And the lark singing for them overhead! 

The Yale Review Edith Wharton, 

(In Memory of T F.B) 

Across the school-ground it v, ould start 

To light my eyes, that yellow gleam 

The window of the flaming heart, 

The chimney of the tossing dream 

The scuffed and wooden porch of Heaven, 

The voice that came like a caress, 

The warm kind hands that once were given 

My carelessness. 

It was a house you would not think 
Could hold such sacraments in things 
Or give the wild heart meat and drink 
Or give the stormy soul high wmgs 


Or chime small voices to such mirth 
Or crown the night with stars and flowers 
Or make upon this quaking earth 
Such steady hours 

Yet, that in storm it stood secure, 
And in the cold was warm with love, 
Shall its similitude endure 
Past trophies that men weary of, 
"Where two were out of fortune's reach, 
Building great empires round a name 
And ushering into casual speech 
Dim worlds aflame 

The Yale Review William Rose BenM 


(In Memory of T. F. J9.) 

You loved the hay in the meadow, 

Flowers at noon, 
The high cloud's long shadow, 

Honey of June, 
The flaming woodways tangled 

With Fall on the hill, 
The towering night star-spangled 

And winter-still. 

And you loved firelight faces 

The hearth, the home 
Your mind on golden traces, 

London or Home 
On quaintly-colored spaces 

Where heavens glow 
With his quaint saints' embraces 



In cloister and highway 

(Gold of God's dust 
And many an elfin byway 

You put your trust 
A crock and a table, 

Love's end of day, 
And light of a storied stable 

Where kings must pray. 

Somewhere there is a village 

For you and me, 
Hayfield, hearth, and tillage 

Where can it be ? 
Prayers when birds awake, 

Daily bread, 
Toil for His sunlit sake 

Who raised us dead. 

With this in mind you moved 

Through love and pain. 
Hard though the long road proved, 

You turned again 
With a heart that knew its trust 

Not ill-bestowed 
With this you light the dust 

That clouds my road. 

The Tale Review William Rose Benft 


The sound of rustling silk is stilled, 
With solemn dust the court is filled, 
No footfalls echo on the floor; 
A thousand leaves stop up her door, 
Her little golden drink is spilled. 

Her painted fan no more shall rise 
Before her black barbaric eyes 
The scattered tea goes with the leaves. 
And simply crossed her yellow sleeves; 
And every day a sunset dies 

Her birds no longer coo and call, 
The cherry blossoms fade and fall, 
Nor ever does her shadow stir 
But stares forever back at her, 
And through her runs no sound at all. 

And bending low, my falling tears 
Drop fast against her little ears, 
And yet no sound comes back, and I 
Who used to play her tenderly 
Have touched her not a thousand years. 

The Dial Djuna Barnes 


On the cord dead hangs our sister, 
She of the wondrous lily feet. 
They have blasted our fragrant flower 
She shall curse them as is meet' 
Hold the broom in her dead hand 
Raise her up until she stand. 
Backward, forward, sweep the room! 
Wealth and happiness and long life 
Sweeps she with avenging broom 
From the house where she was wife. 
Backward, forward, sweep the broom 
Sweeping doom, sweeping doom' 

Now the gods will surely punish 
Surely pity the young bride. 
She was like & willow blossom, 

It was springtime when she died. 
Hold the broom in her dead hand 
Raise her up until she stand! 
She was always flower-gay 
Till they broke her smiling heart. 
In this house she would not stay 
Take her up let us depart. 

Poetry t a, Magazine of Verse Elizabeth J. Coatsworth 


Nothing to say to all those marriages! 
She had made three herself to three of his. 
The score was even for them, three to three. 
But come to die she found she cared so much: 
She thought of children in a burial row; 
Three children in a burial row were sad. 
One man's three women in a burial row 
Somehow made her impatient with the man. 
And so she said to Laban, " You have done 
A good deal right: don't do the last thing wrong. 
Don't make me lie with those two other women.'* 

Laban said, No, he would not make her lie 
With any one but that she had a mind to. 
If that was how she felt, of course, he said. 
She went her way. But Laban having caught 
This glimpse of lingering person in Eliza, 
And anxious to make all he could of it 
With something he remembered in himself, 
Tried to think how he could exceed his promise, 
And give good measure to the dead, though thankles 
If that was how she felt, he kept repeating. 
His first thought under pressure was a grave 
In a new boughten grave plot by herself, 
Under he didn't care how great a stone* 
He'd sell a yoke of steers to pay for it. 

And weren't there special cemetery flowers, 
That once grief sets to growing, grief may rest: 
The flowers will go on with grief awhile, 
And no one seem neglecting or neglected? 
A prudent grief will not despise such aids. 
He thought of evergreen and everlasting. 
And then he had a thought worth many of these 
Somewhere must be the grave of the young boy 
Who married her for playmate more than helpmate, 
And sometimes laughed at what it was between them 
How would she like to sleep her last with him? 
Where was his grave ? Did Laban know his name? 

He found the grave a town or two away, 

The headstone cut with John, Beloved Husband, 

Beside it room reserved, the say a sister's, 

A never-married sister's of that husband, 

Whether Eliza would be welcome there. 

The dead was bound to silence: ask the sister. 

So Laban saw the sister, and, saying nothing 

Of where Eliza wanted not to lie, 

And who had thought to lay her with her first love, 

Begged simply for the grave. The sister's face 

Fell all in wrinkles of responsibility. 

She wanted to do right She'd have to think. 

Laban was old and poor, yet seemed to care; 
And she was old and poor but she cared, too. 
They sat. She cast one dull, old look at him, 
Then turned him. out to go on other errands 
She said he might attend to in the village, 
While she made up her mind how much she cared 
And how much Laban cared and why he cared 
(She made shrewd eyes to see where he came in). 

She'd looked Eliza up her second time, 
A widow at her second husband's grave, 
And offered her a home to rest awhile 
Before she went the poor man's widow's way, 
Housekeeping for the next man out of wedlock. 


She and Eliza had been friends through all. 

Who was she to judge marriage in a world 

Whose Bible's so confused up in marriage counsel? 

The sister had not come across this Laban; 

A decent product of life's ironing-out; 

She must not keep him waiting. Time would press 

Between the death day and the funeral day. 

So when, she saw him coming in the street 

She hurried her decision to be ready 

To meet him with his answer at the door. 

Laban had known about what it would be 

From the way she had set her poor old mouth, 

To do, as she had put it, what was right. 

She gave it through the screen door closed between 


"No, not with John. There wouldn't be no sense. 
Eliza's had too many other men." 

Laban was forced to fall back on his plan 
To buy Eliza a plot to lie alone in* 
Which gives him for himself a choice of lots 
When his time comes to die and settle down. 

Harper's Magazine Robert Frost 


Boo-shoo I Boo-shoo ' 

Me, Ah'-dek-koons, I mak'-um big talk. Ho! 

Me, oF man; I'm gotr-um sick in knee 

In rainy wedder w'en I'm walk. Ugh I 

Me, lak moose w'at's ol', 

I'm drop-urn plenty toot'! 

Yet I am. big man ! Ho ! 

An' I am talk big! Ho! 

Hi-yeel Slow lak moose ol' man! 




Ht-yil Little Caribou him, talk 
Lak O'-mah-ka-kee dose Bullfrog; 
Big mout', big belly, 
No can fight' 

Ugh' Close mout', young crazy buck' 

You stop council-talk, 

You go 'way council; 

Srt wit' squaw. 

You lak pollywog tad-pole 

No can jump-urn over little piece mud, 

Can only shake-urn tail lak crazy-dam-fool! 

Keetch'-ie O'-gi-ma', big Presh-i-den*, 

He got-um plenty t'oughts in head, good t'oughls, 

Me, Little Caribou, ' 

I'm got-um plenty t'oughts in head, good t'oughts. 

Yet Eenshun Agent Myers all-tarn' saying 

"Ah-dek-koons he crazy ol* fool I" 

Ugh.! He crazy ol' fool! 

Keetch-ie O-gi-ma long tarn' ago was say in treaty: 

"All de Cheebway should be farmer, 

All will get from gov'ment fine allotment 

One hundred-sixty acre each " Hoi 

Ho! Eenshun scratch-urn treaty! 

Wats come treaty ? Hah f 
Eenshun got-um hondred-sixty acre, 
But go-um too much little pieces; 
Pieces scattered over lake 
Lak leaves she's blow by wmd 
In tamarack swamp by Moose-tail Bay 
He got-um forty acre piece. 
In muskeg and in rice-field, 
On Lake of Cut-foot Sious, ten mile away, 
He got-um forty acre more 
In sand an' pickerel weed, 
On Bowstring Lake, she's forty mile away, 


He got-um forty acre more. 
Hondred mile away, on Lac La Croix, 
Were lumber-man is mak* big dam 

For drive-urn log an' back-urn up water 

All over Eenshun allotment land 

He got-um forty acre more, all under lake! 

How can be? 

Got-um land all over lake ' 

Got-um land all under lake! 

For Eenshun be good farmer 

Eenshun should be good for walking under water! 

Should be plough hees land wit' clam-drag ! 

Should be gadder crops wit' fish-net 

For Eenshun be good farmer 

Eenshun should be fish! 


I have said it! 

Hit Plenty-Ing talk! 
Ho' Hoi Ho' 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Lew Sarett 


A Mes-qua-kie Ceremony 

[The Friends and the Mourners chant responsively.] 

Let the ghost of the brave be carried away. 
Let the ghost of the brave be earned away. 

Mourners, look up. 

Fasters, look up. 

You who have shed your blood, look up 
You whose tears were not enough to shed, 

Look up, look up. 

We cannot look up. 
We cannot look up. 

A moon ago he died. 

A moon ago died the dutiful son. 

A moon ago died the faithful husband. 

A moon ago died the brave, the friend. 

TTi.g ghost is cold 

His ghost is naked 
Let the ghost of the brave be carried away. 

Mourners, look up. 

Pasters, look up. 

We cannot look up. 
We cannot look up. 

Mourners, fasters, 

"Where is his ghost? 
In the Happy Hunting Ground 
Pursues he the game? 

Fights he in company with ancient warriors? 
lights he in company with Hot Hand? 
Fights he in company with Cold Hand? 
Fights he with the ancient brave Mes-qua-kies ? 

Mourners, fasters, 

Where is his ghost? 
Is he in the Happy Hunting Ground? 
Is he in the Happy Hunting Ground? 

A%t ail Ai t ml Ait <w/ 
Ai t ail Ai t a>i>l Ai> azl 

Why is he not in the Happy Hunting Ground * 
Why is he not in the Happy Hunting Ground? 

Mourners, fasters, 

Have you not sent him? 

Mourners and fasters, 

Befriend him, befriend him. 

Mourners and fasters, 

Befriend his ghost 

Why is he not in the Happy Hunting Ground? 
Mourners and fasters, Trhy does his ghost tarry? 
Why is it thin and cold and naked? 

He ^s so loved 

We cannot send him,. 

He is so loved 

We cannot let him go. 

Ai t ail A^, ail Ai, ail 

He stands outside 
The circle of the ghost-fire, 
He stands outside 
In the cold darkness. 
His soul is naked 
He is cold, outside 
In the cold darkness. 
He fears the demons 
In the cold darkness, 
Lest they eat his soul 
In the cold darkness. 
Mourners and fasters, 
Befriend his ghost. 

He is son: ice cannot send him. 
He is brother: we cannot send him. 
He is husband- we cannot send him. 
He is friend? we cannot send htm. 

We cannot send him. 

We cannot let him go 

If we send him, 

He comes back no more. 

If he goes, 

He comes back no more. 

He is lonely and friendless. 
He has no companions. 
He sees his friends 
By the smoky ghost-fire, 
But they cannot see him. 


He hears their voices 
Praise him. by the ghost-fire 
But they cannot hear him 
When he replies 

Thm is his voice: 

They cannot hear it 

Send him to the Happy Hunting Ground, 
Where dwell his ancestors, 
Send him to the Happy Hunting Ground, 
Where dwell Hot Hand and Cold Hand. 

Long is the ghost-road: 
No one returns by vt 
Long i the ghost-road 
He comes back no more 

Long is the ghost-road no one returns by it. 
Long is the ghost-road but all go over it 
Long is the ghost-road you will go over it 
You will go over it, if you will send him. 

Long ^s the ghost-road 
No one returns by vt 
Long ^s the ghost-road: 
He comes back no more. 

He wanders in the cold, beyond the ghost-fire. 
He picks up crumbs like a wolf in the cold. 
He has no horse, he can hunt no game. 

Long is the ghost-road, 

But all go over it 

Long is the ghost-road. 

You will go over it. 

You will go over it 

If you will send him. 

Yes t we will send hvm y 
For we shall follow Ttvm,. 
Yes, we will send h^m, 
For we shall not lose him. 


Yes,<we wili send him. 
We shall all follow after him. 
We shall all follow after him, 
Wise, good, loving. 
Yes, toe will send him: 
Make ready the horse, 
The new clothes, the feast. 

They will send him, they will send him, 

The mourners will send him, 

Make ready the horse, the new clothes, the feast. 

They will send him. 

They will send him. 
And they will follow after 

Call the ghost carriers 

Call the ghost carriers. 

Bring no more wood to the smoky ghost-fire: 
The ghost goes on the long ghost-road. 
Bring no more food to the smoky ghost-fire: 
The ghost goes on the long ghost-road. 
Let the men who sit by the smoky ghost-fire 
No more praise him that he may hear. 
Let the men who sit by the smoky ghost-fire 
Rise up now and help to make ready 

Bise up and make ready. 

Make ready, 

Make ready, 

Else up and make ready. 
The ghost goes on the long ghost-road. 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse Nelson Antrim Crawford 


There will be rose and rhododendron 
When you are dead and underground; 

Still will be heard from white syringas 
Heavy with bees, a sunny sound, 

Still will the tamaracks be raining 

After the rain, has ceased, and still 
Will there be robbins in the stubble, 

Brown sheep upon the warm, green hill. 

Spring will not ail, nor autumn falter, 
Nothing will know that you are gone, 

Saving alone some sullen plowland 
None but yourself sets foot upon; 

Saving the mayweed and the pigweed 
Nothing will know that you are dead 

These, and perhaps a useless wagon 
Standing beside some tumbled shed. 

Oh, there will pass with your great passing 

Little of beauty not your own, 
Only the light from common water, 

Only the grace from simple stone' 

Ainslee's Magazine Edna St Vincent MiUay 

O, MY 

* This characteristic tribute by Mr Masters to his friend 
William Marion Beedy was called forth by the latter's death 
in July. In his own. way, which seems to me the right way, 
Mr. Beedy was a "discoverer" of poets and -writers 
through a sympathy and understanding unequalled among 
his contemporaries. He was no propagandist for any par- 
ticular theory or method or school of the art; but a pure lover 
of poetry with infinite unselfishness of the lover who praises 
the virtues of his mistress and genially tolerates her faults. 
His memory will long be honored and affectionately cherished 
by the poets of America a monument he would most 
desired for his fame W. S. B 

O, my fiiend, 

"What fitting word can I say? 

You, my chum, 


My companion of infinite talks, 

My inspiration, 

My guide, 

Through, whom I saw myself at best; 

You, the light of this western country. 

You, a great richness. 

A, glory, 

A charm, 

Product and treasure of these States. 

Bill, I knew you had gone 
I was walking down mto town this morning, 
And amid the hurry of cars and the flash of this July sun, 
You came to me. 

At least the intimation came to me, 
And may it be you, 

That somewhere I can laugh and talk long hours with 
you again. 

Reedy'a Mirror Edgar Lee Masters 


I am weighed down beneath a clustering load 
Of fragrances, rich sounds and lovely shapes, 
Like one who toils along a doubtful road 
With the glad wealth of purple-glinting grapes 
I seem to stagger from an ancient city 
With golden armor, swords, fierce jewels, rings, 
Treasure that stirs deep memories with the pity 
Of fate-foiled heroes and forgotten fangs 
And then I dream I bear a love-ripe maiden, 
Whose folded eyelids flutter, and I thirst 
To touch her throat, her hps, till, rapture-laden, 
It seems at length as if my heart would burst. 
Yet, Beauty-f aint, I would not lose one shade, 
Or note or scent that Beauty's hand hath made. 

The Farmer Charles Whartan Stork 



O Love, now the herded billows over the holy plain 
Of the trampled sea move thunderously, and east 

Their wrath on the dark shore let us set out again, 
Let us make seaward, and be gone at last. 

Into the choiring, clashing, wild waste of waters strown 
Around us, forward forward , and leave 

The little frets and the fevers, just we two alone, 
Heart-free, as once in days long out of mind' 

Forget the city and all its troubles, leave forever 
Our dusty ways' The Eternal 'round us rolled 

Shall wash us white of the little sins and fears that 

Lave us, and leave us lovers as of old 

Lovers as once in golden days gone by, till sorrow 
Fall from us like a robe, the martyrdom 

Of life on the daily rack: there shall be no Tomorrow, 
Nor Yesterday, but heaven and ocean Sweet- 
heart, come 

And on the swelling pillow of the Unbounded lean 
Your cheek, all fiery now let us press 

Forward, the changeful furrows of the flashing foam 

Our glowing bodies into the Loveliness ' 

The waves shatter, the billows break us, the sullen wrath 
Of the surf beata down our foreheads. Line on line 

Rises the majesty of the sea to oppose our path 
With tingling bodies through the stinging brine, 

But in our jubilant breasts the embattled life at bay 
Exults fiercely for joy, the waves cry out 

And shout in answering joy, the salt and savage spray 
Showers our shoulders in the exuberant bout, 

wnere we press rorwara, laugning ror lusty love, ana tne 


Receive us and rise, the foam of the breaker's crest 
Unfolds like a flower and dies of its kiss, and subsides, 

and follows, 
Laughing and loving, where our limbs have pressed: 

Till in the lustrous shadow of the last wave before us 
We bow, and from the rolling billow's might 

Lift glimmering eyelids up, while hearts and lips in 

Mingle with winds and waters their delight. 

Far far where the sea-bird sinks weary wings at 

Before the wrath of the wings of the wind, the sea 
Makes moan, the inconsolable, pale waters are aghast, 

And shudder with dread of their own immensity. 

They murmur with one another, the voice of their vast 

Sinks down in supplication, and the sleep 
Of the Supreme is stirred to whispers everywhere 

The dark and divine sorrows of the Deep. 

Where the heads of the sea were holy and lifted in wrath 


Now broods the silence, heaven holds its breath, 
Where the feet of the winds made music far out to the 

lone sea-line, 
The rapture and awe and silence as of death! 

Hark how the lonely sea-bird screams above the 


And inland reaches' Now, far out, we roam 
The desert and dumb vast of the dread sea that urges 
Our fitful course far out beyond the foam, 

Toward the most pallid rim of cloudy noonday steering 
Steadily, while the fluent glooms and grave 

Lap us and lift, repulse, and pause the wild and 

Will of the loving and reluctant wave. 

The sombre and immense breast of the huge sea 
Lifts in long lines of beauty, the supreme 

Bosom with Its vast love rises resistlessly, 
And lapses in long lines into its dream. 

Lone to the last marge lone lone lone 
And void to where the huddled waters crowd 

The brim along the floor of heaven's darkened 

Moves, like a ghost, the shadow of a cloud. 

Shadow and light pass over shifting, shine and shade 

Vanish and veer, upon the chilly rim 
Kindle like crowns the cloud-crests along the east 

And swords of flame, like swords of the seraphim 

The floors of the sea catch fire, the eye of the world's 


Dilates, and into a glory of glittering gold 
Break the pale greens and purples, the sun in heaven's 

Unveils himself for all men to behold 

And all the world is a-riot, behind us and before, 
With fire and color the heavens roll back their 

From zone to zone, from the zenith to the everlasting 


Beaches one resonant and radiant room 

Light' Light' The astounded, far fields of ocean 


Sheer gold and shimmering amber, where we take 
The lips of the wave with laughter your eyes are turned 

to mine, 
Sweetheart, your eyes that burn for beauty's sake. 

They tremble with happy tears and little words 


Trouble your lips, dumbly, dumbly we know 
Something starry and strange, that the world's wheel 

has broken, 
Come back to us out of the long-ago. 

Put out your hand. O cleave the clasp of the close wave* 

Its fire to flowers! Put out your hand, and move 
Forward into the radiant far reaches 'round us burning, 

Darling, as once in the old days of love. 

Our hearts drink the wrath and the wonder, the breath 
of the boundless spaces 

Hallows our foreheads, the exceeding might 
Of moving waters around us is music, and on our faces 

The glory of God is shed, His holy light! 

Reedy 's Mirror John Hall Whedock 


If what we fought for seems not worth the fighting, 
And if to win seems in the end to fail, 

Know that the vision lives beyond all blighting 
And every struggle rends another veil. 

The tired hack, the 

Can d\m but cannot make us lose the goal, 
Time moves with measured step upon her missvm t 

Knowing the slow mutations of the soul* 

New York Evening Post Hamilton Fish Armstrong 



Audi Alteram Partem 

The roses and vines and the tall, straight, delicate 

Growing about a beautiful old sixteenth-century French 

One clear morning of autumn were strung with silver 
ropes of spider-web, 

And the cold, green grass with its butterfly leaves 

Was rimmed with white dew. 

From the tops of the poplars could have been seen the 

Far away in the sunlight, sere and brown like a floor- 

Out there sere and brown with the last of then- summer 

A valet with a duster in his hand and on his forearm a 

dust cloth 
He may have been Swiss, for he wore a loin-cloth of 

forest green 
Entered a front room of the chateau and suddenly stood 

perfectly still there, 
Listening amid the decorous morning silence of the 


To a loud> nasty, little foreign noise coming from some- 
He uttered a few words, straight as the poplars but far 

from being so delicate 
Uttered them in a language of the Academy and of 

Finding the language of Fabre adequate for what he had 

to say regarding a bug, 
Adding in the same language, "What are you doing 

there under that rug?" 
And forward he strode and gave a quick 
Academic or dithyrambie or choric kick 
At the loose beautiful old marble (perhaps) brick. 

And the Cricket on the Hearth, 

For all its matutinal spontaneous mirth, 

And without time for a sigh 

That no poet was nigh 

To see him die, 

Was mashed song and senses, back and belly 

Into unpotted cricket jelly 

And all the literary offspring of Boz, 

Boz who despised your sentimentality 

But doted on his own sentimentality 

(As the rest of us) 

All the literary offspring of Boz 

Who despise sentimentality about a Dresden shep- 

But dote on sentimentality about the toes of a cricket 

The twentieth-century Bozzers, 

Successors to those nineteenth-century ones 

Who loved the domestic canary, and the owl if perched 
on a bookcase, 

And the pheasant with its young and its nest if well 
arranged on a table 

Served sous cloche like mushrooms, 

The twentieth-century Bozzers, green and leafy with 

And ready to exude poetic gum at the bare mention of 
the natural, 

Laboring at the cult of the natural 

And therefore never natural themselves 

Because no cult is natural 

But is a saturated solution of self -consciousness, 

All the Neo-Bozzers must have wailed aloud 

At the sudden violent death 

Of the Cricket on the Hearth 

A natural thing making natural music, 

Having been caught in an altogether unnatural place. 

But the valet lifted the little Dresden shepherdess from 

the mantelpiece 

And dusted her tenderly and put her back in her place, 
As the valet before him had done, 

As the valet after him would dust her tenderly and put 

her back in her place 
But he held her awhile and at arm's length and looked 

at her, 

Smiled at her slippers and at the rose in her hand, 
Smiled at her hat tilted the way he had seen one, 
Thought of some one he loved and slipped his arm about 

In advance of the coming dusk and counted the days to 

Before she should have fine things on her feet and her 

hair and her bosom 

Then more briskly he went on with his dusting, 

The happier for the shepherdess as workman, lover and 

And none the worse for the happiness 

One day the Marquis, lord of the chateau and gardens, 
White and slight and slim, like the poplars about his 


Paused before the shepherdess, thinking of the Marquise, 
Seeing her as she was in the days of their youth to- 

Days now vanished forever beyond the brown fields of 

And aD. that day with a tenderer grace and an eye on the 

lost , 
He watched her. 

One day the Marquise, catching sight of the shepherdess, 
Suddenly thought of something laid away in its freshness, 
Folded still sweet and fresh in its antique woodwork. 
It she would send as a gift to the daughter of the cur, 
About to be married, a godchild 

One day the abb 6, the scholar, brother of the Marquis, 
Walking gravely in the room with thoughts of his history, 
Wheeled angrily before the little Dresden shepherdess on 
the mantelpiece, 

.Remembering Mane Antoinette and her acres of pastoral 


In the forest of Versailles near the Petit Trianon. 
Saw once more and more near him French follies and 

Went straight from the room and wrote more fiercely on 

avenging Time, 
Wrote on the work of France in the coming glory of the 


But all the valets mashed all the crickets 

Singing in the morning stillness of the beautiful sixteenth- 
century French chateau. 

And none of them as he dusted the shepherdess laid her 
in the nook of his arm 

And carried her out to the fields and set her up there with 
the crickets, 

Thinking the fields the place for the Dresden shepherdess. 

And none of them caught a cricket and brought it back to 
the chateau 

And dusted it and put it on the mantelpiece 

Or under the mantelpiece as the natural place for a cricket; 

And none of the valets, if he could help it, killed a cricket 
m. the fields, 

But stepped over it carefully if tangled in the grass and 
unable to escape sudden death under his feet. 

For the valets have nothing against the crickets in the 


Where nothing ends or defeats 
The music of the earth 
Bead Keats 1 

Glorious, undoctrined, undoctored spirit! 
Who sang of the grasshopper ^ 

But who sang too of the Grecian urn on the mantelpiece 
(Or some equivalent of the mantelpiece) 
Sang of the sentimental, artificial scene on the Grecian 


More sentimental, more artificial, than the httle Dresden 


Sang of the artificial Greek heifer lowing at artificial 

Greek skies 

Boundless poet of Nature 
But poet also of all that is beautiful 
In the bounded spirit of man 

The most beautiful thing in that spirit being man's art. 

His art which is but little pictures 

To bring near him the beauty that is far away or 

beyond him. 
Whether it be the little Dresden shepherdess on. the 


Or the Grecian urn on its mantelpiece 
With its sentimental, artificial heifer lowing at the skies 
And at the mystery of sacrifice, or whether it be 
The little wooden crucifix, held before dying eyes, 
As the hope that, closing on earth, 
They will open in paradise 

The Bookman James Lane Allen 





AUGUST, 1919 JULY, 1920 

Anon MOMENT MYSTICAL, The Pagan, April-May; PREL- 
UDE TO A PANTOMIME, The Nation, May 1. 

Adams, Franklin P SONG ov SYNTHETIC VIRILITY, Harper'* 
Magazine, February; THE L<UST LVDGH, HORACE* 
EPODB 15, Harper's Magazine, December, 1919 

Aiken, Conrad ASPHALT, The Dial, June 

Aldington, Richard. AN EAHTH GODDESS, AFTER THE AD- 
VANCE, 1917, The North American Renew, January 

Aldington, Mrs. Richard THE ISLANDS, The North American 
Review, January. 

Pagan, April-May 

Alwood, Lister Raymond AN INTHHLTTDE, The Detroit 
OP RUBEN DABIO), The Detroit Sunday Newt, Novem- 
ber 12, 1919; To A LEAF, The Detroit Sunday Neut, 
May 9, WHITE BEES, The Detroit Sunday New*, May 9. 

Allen, Hervey. THE BLTNDMAN, The North American Renew, 
November, 1919, 

Allen, James Lane. ON THE MANTELPIECE, The Bookman, 
September, 1919. 

Ailing, Kenneth Slade SNOW, Contemporary Verte, January, 
THAT STRANGE THING, Contemporary Verse, May, 
THBEB FLOWERS, Contemporary Verse, May. 

Anderson, Dorothy. A BEVENANT, Contemporary Verte, 
November, 1919; DTTST, Contemporary Verge, Novem- 
ber, 1919; MOTLEY, Contemporary Verse, November, 

Anderson, Maxwell, WELCOME TO EARTH, Contemporary 
Verae, October, 1919, HTLAS, Contemporary Verge, 

Anderson, Robert Gordon. LBAJJEK OF MEN, Scnbner's 
Magazine, February. 

Andrews, Mary R. S. THE OLDEST ANGEL, Scribner'* Maga- 
zine, November, 1919. 


Armstrong, Hamilton Fish LIKES FOR TEE HOUR, The N F. 
Evening Post, March 2 

Auerbach, Joseph S INVOCATION OF REASON, The North 
American Renew, November, 1919 

Auslander, Jacob I COME SINGING, The New Republic, 
March 24 

FACE, The Sonnet, January-February 

Austin, Mary. BLACK PRAYERS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
January; I DO NOT KNOW, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, January, NEW-MEXICAN LOVE SONG, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, January; THE EAGLE'S SONG, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January; THE GRABS ON 
THE MOUNTAIN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January. 

Avery, Claribel. THE WORDS, Contemporary Verse, January. 

Baker, Helba WITHOUT BEGINNING, Ainslee'a Magazine, 
October, 1919. 

Baker, Karle Wilson. ACORNS, The Yale Renew, October, 
1919, DEATH THE HIGHWAYMAN, Contemporary Verse, 
January, FAIRY FIRES, The Yale Renew, October, 1919; 
GRAY DATS, The Yale Review, October, 1919, I LOVE 
Verse, January; LEAVES, The Yale Renew, October, 
1919; MORNING- SONG, Contemporary Verse, January; 
OVERHEAD TRAVELLERS, The Yale Renew, October, 
1919, STARS, The Yale Renew, October, 1919 

Baldwin, Faith MY SISTER'S SONS, Contemporary Verse, 

Century Magazine, April; THE CARTUAN OF KALGAN, 
The Century Magazine, April; THE LAST JOURNEY, The 
Century Magazine, April, THE SHEPHERD OF HANOER- 
PAAR, The Century Magazine, April; THE WARRIOR'S 
BRIDE, The Century Magazine, April 

Balmont, Konstantin EVENING FIELDS, Contemporary 
Verse, November, 1919 

Barnes, Djuna. PASTORAL, The Dial, April; To THE DEAD 
FAVORITE OF Liu CH'E, The Dial, April 

Barney, Danford FINALE, Scnbner's Magazine, December, 

Bates, Katharine Lee CEDAR HIT.TI, The North American 
Renew, May 

Barrett, Wilton Agnew AN AWAKENING, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, December, 1919 

Baxter, Sylvester SEA-CHANGE, The N Y Sun, March 21 

Bealle, Alfred Battle. THE ADVENTURER, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse f May; GRASSES AND SAND, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verae t May. 


Becker, Charlotte. THE OUTSIDER, The Woman'* World, 
November, 1919. 

Belknap, P. H. THE COMFORTABLE PEOPLE, Aimlee's Maga- 
zine, April 

Bell, Jessica THE FIRST SNOW, Contemporary Verse, Decem- 
ber, 1919 

Beflamann, H. H CONGEST PICTURES, The Midland, A 
Magazine of the Middle West, May 

Benedict, Bertram. STEALING THE KAISER'S STUFF, The 
Nation, December 37, 1919. 

Benet, Stephen Vincent. LAST SONG OP THE TROJAN LIGHT 
INFANTRY, Atnslee's Magazine, August, 1910, UNDER 
GREEN TREES, Amslee's Magazine, January. 

BenSt, William Rose. ACCOSTED, The Yale Renew, October, 
1919; DUST ON THE PLAINS, The Century Magazine, 
March; HEB WAT, The Yale Renew, October, 1919; 
THE LONG ABSENCE (In Memory of T. F B-), The Yale 
Renew, October, 1919, THE HOUSE AT EVENING, The 
Yale Remew, October, 1919; THE STAB, The Century 
Magazine, December, 1919, To HENRY J FORD, ILLUS- 
January; TRAVEL, The Yale Rcrieir, October, 1919; 
WAR AND DEATH, The Yale Renew, October, 1919 

Berry, Elizabeth Bobbins. OUR UNKNOWN DEAD, The Boston 
Transcript, June 5. 

Beecher-Gittings, Ella. THE PRICE, Contemporary Verse, 
December, 1919 

Birch-Bartlett, Helen. BELSKAZZAR, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, February; DRIFT, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
February; EPILOGUE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
February; PREMONITIONS, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, February; RE-ENCOUNTER, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, February; REMEMBRANCE, Poetry, A Magasine 
of Verse, February, THE BRINGER OF GIFTS, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, February. 

Bird, Stephen Moylan, THE RED CROSS NURSE, Contemporary 
Verse, December, 1919 

Black, MacKnight. MOODS, Contemporary Verse, December, 
1919; THE WEST, Contemporary Verse* December, 1919 

Blanchard, Ames WHEN LEARNING PALLS, Contemporary 
Verse, June. 

Block, Ralph. AFTER RACHMANINOFF, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, March 

Bodenheim, Maxwell. BOARDING-HOUSE EPISODE, The Dial, 
February, ENDING, The Dial, February; FIFTH AVENUE, 
The Dial, February; To J, C., The Dial, February, 
Two WOMEN ON A STREET, The Dial, February; SONNET, 
The Dial, February, THB CLOUD DESCENDS, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, September, 1919; WHEN FOOLS 
DISPUTE. The Dial, February. 


Boyesson, Bayard IN THE FOREST, Amslee's Magazine, April. 
Boyle. Virginia Frazer. HENRY MILLS ALDEN, Harper's 

Magazine, December, 1919 

Bowman, Forrest. CONSUMMATION, The Detroit Sunday News, 
March 28, LB REVE, The Detroit Sunday News, Febru- 
ary 8 

Bowen, Stirling IMPRESSIONS, The Detroit Sunday Newt, 
May, 18, NOCTURNE, The Detroit Sunday News, June, 
20; REVELATION, The Detroit Sunday News, May 2; 
SONNET, The Detroit Sunday News, December 21, 1919; 
SONNET, (For G B ), The Detroit Sunday News, March. 
21; Two SONNETS, The Detroit Sunday News, January 

Brackett, Charles THE FLOBIST SHOP, The Century Magazine, 

Bradford, Gamaliel. HIBNELET, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919, IMMORTALITY, Contemporary 
Verse, November, 1919, NIL EXTRA TE, Contemporary 
Verse, November, 1919, THE CLOCK, Contemporary 
Verse, November, 1919, THE TOUCH, The Stratford 
Journal, October-December, 1919 

Braley, Berton ENCHANTMENT, Harper's Magazine, April, 
RENASCENCE, Harper's Magazine, January, THIS WAY 
OUT, Harper's Magazine, November, 1919 

Brewster, Margaret Cable AN EPITAPH, Scnbner's Magazine, 

Brody, Alter SPRING, The Dial, May 

Brown, Abbie Farewell Bur THERE ARE WINGS, Contem- 
porary Verse, December, 1919 

Brown, Alice ENCHANTMENT, Contemporary Verse, June, 
THE TREES, Harper's Magazine, February 

Brown, Georgians. LOVE'S OLD CHARMS, The Woman's 
World, April 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919, To HER 
WHO PASSES, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 
1919, To MY HEART, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
October, 1919 

Browne, Waldo R THE NEW CRUSADERS, The Nation, 
August 80, 1919 

Brownell, Baker. STONES FOR RUSSIA, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, October, 1919 

Bryant, Louise. RUSSIAN MEMORIES, The Dial, May 

Bryher, Winifred. EPISODE, The North American Renew, 

Bunker, John BALLADE OF FACES FAIR, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919, TWILIGHT, Contemporary Verse, 
October, 1919 

Burke, Frances M AMBITION, The Detroit Sunday News, 
May 2, DISCONSOLATE, The Detroit Sunday News, May 


Burlingame, Roger INTERNAL, Scnbner's Magazine, May. 

Burt, Maxwell Struthers ALL NIGHT THROUGH, Contem- 
porary Verse, September, 1919; RESURGAM, Scnbner's 
Magazine, August, 1919 

Burton, Richard EARLY EVENING IN APRIL, The New 
Republic, May 12 

Burr, Amelia Josephine BLUE WATEB, The Bookman, Febru- 
ary, CERTAINTY ENOUGH, The Outlook, September 24, 
1919, THE RAINY Dvr, Contemporary Verse, May; 
THE VICTOR, The Outlook, March 31, To A SCARLET 
LIZARD, The Outlook, January 7 

Burr, Lotus PORTRAIT, Contemporary Verse, November, 

Bynner, Witter A CHANTY, Contemporary Verse, February, 
A LANDSCAPE (From the French of Charles Vildrac) 
The Outlook, April 21, AN INN (From the French of 
Charles Vildrac), The Dial, April; CASTLE IN SPAIN, 
The Dial, April, CARVINGS OP CATHAY, The New 
Republic, January 28, CHINESE DRAWINGS, The Nation, 
September 20, 1919, GRASS-TOPS, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, March, PITTSBURGH, The Nev> Republic, 
January 21 , R UN, The Nation, May 22; REMEMBERING 
JACK LONDON, Contemporary Verse, February; Six 
THE SAND-PIPER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, March; 
To A FRIEND IN CALIFORNIA, The Nation, November 
29, 1019, To A. VOLUNTEER, The Nation, August 23, 
1919, To BE A MAN (From the French of Charles 
Vildrac), The Dial, April; WHEN You TOLD MB OF AX 
EAGLE, The Thai, April, WISE MEN, Contemporary 
Verse, February 

Campbell, Graham. CONSUMES, The Outlook, November 28, 

Campbell, Nancy. THE MOTHER, Poetry, A Magazine of 

Verse, March 
Cann, Louise Gebhard SONNET, NORA MAY FRENCH, IN 

MEMORIAM, Amslee's Magasnne, November, 1919. 
Carlin, Francis THE LAMB, The Catholic World, February; 

THE SYMBOLISTS, The New Republic, January 14; 

WERE You TO BE Our, The Catholic World, June. 
Carnevali, Emanuel. THE DAY OP SUMMER, Poetry, A Maga- 

zine of Verse, September, 1919. 
Cartach, Sn. DREAMS, The New Republic, March 10 
Carrall, Godwin Trezevant YOUR VOICE, Poetry, A Zlagasine 

of Verse, November, 1919. 
Catel. Jean IMAGES VAINBB, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 


Chain, Julia THERE is SOMETHING, The Woman** World, 

Chapin, Anna Alice FUEL, Ainslee's Magazine, April 

Chew, Samuel C HOMAGE TO THOMAS HI.RDY, The New 
Republic, June 2 

Chilton, C A Mr ANSWER, The Catholic World, October, 

Clark, Badger IN THE HILLS, Scnbner's Magazine, March; 
PIONEERS, Scnbner's Magazine, December, 1919 

Clark, Jr , Charles B THE OLD CAMP COFFEE-POT, The 
Outlook, June 9 

Cleghorn, Sarah N IF I FORGET THEE, Harper's Magayine, 
January, ONE LOVE, The Sonnet, September-October, 
1919, PORTRAIT OF A LADY, Scnbner's Magazine, Sep- 
tember, 1919 

Clements, Colin C , Translator Form POEMS FROM THE 
JAPANESE, The Stratford Journal, October-December, 

Clme, Leonard Lanson MEMORIAL, The Detroit Sunday News, 
June IS, WOUNDED, The Detroit Sunday News, July 4 

Cloud, Virginia Woodward IN Yous DREAM, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919, WHOM THE GODS LOVE, Contem- 
porary Verse, October, 1919 

Coates, Archie Austin ALTHBA, AT HER WINDOW, Ainslee's 
Magazine, August, 1919, BALLADE OF A SECOND- 
HAND BOOK SHOP, The Bookman, February, BALLADE 
January , B A.LLADE OF THE PRINTED PAGE, The Bookman, 
January, GIFTS, Harper's Magazine, November, 1919 
TEOIS MOBTS, Contemporary Verse, February 

Coatsworth, Elizabeth J BELATED, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, December, 1919, COMING EVENTS The New 
Republic, December 24, 1919, DAIBUTSU, The New 
Republic, September 24, 1919, LIGHT OF LOVE, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, December, 1919, LOVE TOWER, 
A Magazine of Verse, December,. 1919, OLD TREES, 
The New Republic, February 18, PARK GNOMES, The 
New Republic, June 28, SPRING IN CHINA, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, December, 1919; THE CURSE, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 1919, THE 
APOSTATE GYPSY, Contemporary Verse, January, THE 
GATE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 1919, 
THE GHOULS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 
1919; RAIN PAGEANT, The New Republic, February 18. 

Cobb, Axm HOSPITALITY* The Outlook, May 19, KIVERS, 
The Outlook, February 25, UP GARB CREEK, The Out- 
look, August 27, 1919, THE BLACK SUNBONNET, The 
Outlook, May 12, THE WIDOW-MAN, The Outlook, 
January 14 

Colahan, Ellwood HAND ON A HARP, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, April, PfLGRiMAGB, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April 


Coll, Aloysius FAME, The Outlook, October, 89, 1919, WASH- 
INGTON, The Nation, September 27, 1919 

Colum, Padraic THE RUNE MASTER, The Nation, November 
S, 1019 

Conkling, Grace Hazard LO\E SONG. Harper's Magazine, 
January, SUNSET, Ainslee's Magazine, December, 1919. 

Conkling, Hilda GORGEOUS BLUE MOUNTAIN, Confer porary 
Verse, May, H \PPIXESS, Contemporary Ver\c, M-\ , HAT 
COOK, Contemporary Verse, May, HCMMING-BIBD, 
Contemporary Verge, May, POEMS BY *. CHILD, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, July, ONLY MOKXIXG-GLOBY 
THAT FLOWERED, Contemporary Verse, Ma\ , SE<-GT;LL, 
Contemporary Verse, May, SHINY BROOK, Contemporary 
porary Verse, May, TREE TOAD, Contemporary Verte, 

Corbin, Alice EPITAPH, Poetry, A Magazine of Terse, April; 
of Verse, April, I SAW THE WORLD GO BY T Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, April, OLD AGE, The Xatton, 
March 2, SONG, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April; 
SUMMONS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April. THE 
STORM BIRD, Poetry A Magazine of Vene, April 

Corlyn, Brael SUNBISE IN WINTEB, Harper's Magazine, 
December, 1919 

Cornell, Agnes NIGHT FALL AFTER WIND, The New Republic, 
January 14 

Cowley, Malcolm AGAINST NIGHTINGALES (Siegfried Sas- 
soon's poems), The Dial, May; BAHX DANCE, Poetry, 
A Magasine of Verse, November, 1919; CAGES, The Strat- 
ford Journal, October-December, 1919, DANNY, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919, FROM A YOUNG 
WIFE, The Pagan, April-May; MOONRISE, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, November, 1919. 

Cook, Harold LOVE WILL RETURN, Contemporary Verte, 
April, ON READING YOUB PLAY, Contemporary Verse, 

Cook, John Orth A PBVFEB, Contemporary Verse, September, 

Cooke, Edmund Vance. HELEN KELLER, The Stratford 
Journal, September, 1919, THOSE Two, Harper 1 * 
Magazine, December, 1919. 

Cooley, Julia To LONELINESS, Contemporary Verse, October, 


Crawford, Nelson Antrim A FIELD OF FLAX, The Midland, 
A Magazine of the Middle West, July-August, 1919; 
A VOICE, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, 
July-August 1919, FREE, The Overland Montfdy, 


November, 1919; HANDS, The Midland, A Magazine 
of the Middle West, July-August, 1919, Music, The 
Pagan, April-May, PINKS, The Midland, A Magazine 
of the Middle West, July-August, 1919, POPLABS, The 
Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, July-August, < 
1910; THB APPLE TREE, The Midland, A Magazine O f 
the Middle West, July-August, 1919, THB BLUE SPRUCE, 
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, July- 
August, 1919, THE CATALPA, The Midland, A Maga- 
zine of the Middle West, July-August, 1919, THE JINKQO, 
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, July- 
August, 1919, THE OAK, The Midland, A Magazine of 
the Middle West, July-August, 1919, WILLOWS, The 
Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, July-August, 

Crocker, Bosworth WISHES, The Bookman, April 
Crowell, Grace Noll THE BLIND CHILD, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919, THE LITTLE HOUSE, Con- 
temporary Verse, November, 1919; YOUTH, Contem- 
porary Verse, June 

Cummings, E E. FIVE POEMS, The Dial, May, SEVEN 
POEMS, The Dial, January 

D. H. (Mrs Bichard Aldington) HYMEN, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, December, 1919 

Daly, S J James J. FRIENDS, The Catholic World, March, 
THE BBGGAB-KNIGHT, The Catholic World, May 

Damon, S Foster Krai No MBIJITAMA, A NOH DEAMA IN 

Davies, Mary Carolyn FOOLS, Ainslee's Magazine, April, 
FOBEST DANCE, Contemporary Verse, April, I PKAT 
You, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1919, 
IN THE MIDDLE WEST, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
September, 1919, SEA GULLS, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, September, 1919, THE APPLE TREE SAID, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1919, To A 
GEBAT MAN, Ainslee's Magazine, September, 1919, 
To OTHEB MABYS, Contemporary Verse, Apnl, YOUNG 
LOVE, Ainslee's Magazine, December, 1919 

Davis, H. L BAKING BBEAD, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
June, FROM A VINETABD, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, June, IN THIS WET OBCHABD, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, June, OCTOBEB "THE OLD EYES," 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June, STALKS OF WILD 
HAY, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June, THE MABKBT- 
GARDENBBS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June, THE 
RAIN-CROW, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June, THE 
THRESHING-FLOOR, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
June, To THE BIVEB BEACH, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, June 


D'Emo, Leon. LIKE A Cm ox A THBONE, The Century 
Magazine, November, 1919. 

LEONORA SPEYER, The Stratford Journal, September, 

De La Selva, Salomon BIRCHES, Ainslee's Magazine, Sep- 
tember, 1919, UNBEDEEMED, Ainslee'a Magazine, 
August, 1919 

BY B. A. BoTKJN, The Stratford Journal* August, 

Dell, Floyd. SONG, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 

Derby, Jeannette LAND BREEZE, The New Republic, Febru- 
ary 18, SHIP SONG, The New Republic, April Zl 

Deutsch, Babette NOUMENON, Contemporary Verse, Decem- 
ber, 1919 

Dickms, Edith THE NATIVITY, Scribner's Magazine, Decem- 
ber, 1919 

Dill, Mabel LOVE, Contemporary Verse, March 

Dodge, Louis EVENING, Scnbner's Magazine, May 

Donnelly, S J , Francis P MEMORIES OF Fs OCCE, The Catholic 
World, November, 1919 

Doughty, Leonard. LOOMING ISLES, Contemporary Verse, 
September, 1919. 

Drachman, Julian M FIBE-WEED IN THE FOREST, Con- 
temporary Verse, November, 1919, GARGOYLES, The 
Nation, April 4; THE FIGHTER PRAYS, The Outlook, 
April 7 

Dresbacn, Glenn Ward SONGS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
temporary Verse, May, SONGS WHILE THE LEAVES ATEB 
FALLING, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle 
West, September-October, 1919. 

Dnnkwater, John THRIFT, The Yale Review, April; THE 
PLEDGE, The Yale Review, April, To AND FBO ABOUT 
THE CITY, The New Republic, March 31. 

Driscoll, Louise I GO BUT MY HEABT STAYS, Contemporary 
Verse, April; PREMONITION, Poetry, A Magasine of 
Verse, March, SPRING THOUGHTS, Contemporary Verse, 
April; THE HERETIC, Contemporary Verse, April; 
TREASURE, Poetry, A Magasine of Verse, November, 

Dudley, Helen. AGAINST THE SUN, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, May; COOTHAM LANE, Poetry, A Magcaane of 
Verse, May. 

E , A (George Russell). MICHAEL, The Dial, March 
Eastman, Mabel Hulyer. " YET I AM NOT TOB PITY," Harper's 
Magasine, November, 1919 


Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May, SONG FOB SHRED- 
DING BABE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May, WOMAN 
WITH TWINS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May 

Eddy, Ruth Bassett LOVE ATHIBST, The Pagan, April-May 

Eldridge, Paul AN EPITAPH, Contemporary Verse, January, 
MY YEARS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February, 
NIGHT, The Stratford Journal, October-December, 
porary Verse, June, THE BLACK CAT, The Stratford 
Journal, October-December, 1919, THE MOON AND 
THE OCEAN, Contemporary Verse, September, 1919 

Embry, Jacqueline WHITE BUTTERFLY (Pos JANET 
1918-10), Contemporary Verse, June 

Emmet, Rosma H WATTING, Scnbner's Magazine, October, 

Erskine, John APPARITION, Harper's Magazine, January; 
KINGS AND STABS, The Nation, November 15, 1919 

EYES, The New Republic, January 21 

Eyres, D M THE QUIET HOUSE, Harper's Magazine, April 

Farrar, John Chipman A COMPARISON, Contemporary 
Verse, May, LUCILB, Contemporary Verse, February, 
PARENTHOOD, Contemporary Verse, May, WISH, Con- 
temporary Verse, May 

Fennell, Charles FIGHTING MICKEY KEEFB, Contemporary 
Verse, June 

Finley, John A FICTUBE OP OLD AGE, Scnbner's Magazine, 
VIOL, Scnbner's Magazine, February, To FLORENCE 
NIGHTINGALE, The Outlook, June 2 

Fisher, Mahlon Leonard IN A CEMETERY, The Nation, March 
6, IN WINTER, The Sonnet, January-February; No 
WEAK BELIEVES I, The Sonnet, March- April, RELENT- 
LESSNESB, The Sonnet, March- April, THE BROTHERS, 
The Sonnet, November-December, 1919, THE HILLS, 
The Nation, April 10, THE OMNIPRESENT, The Sonnet, 
January-February, THE ROAD RUNS FAST, The 
Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, September- 
October, 1919, THE STEADFAST, The Sonnet, Novem- 
ber-December, 1919 

Fletcher, John Gould AT THE TURN OF THE YEAB, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, December, 1919, RAIN, Poetry, 
A Magastne of Verse, December, 1919, THE BLACK 
ROCK, TO THOMAS HARDY, The Yale Renew, July 

The North American Renew, February, FOB A PIECE 
OF OLD POTTEBY, Contemporary Verse, November, 


Foster, Jeanne Robert A LAMENT, Ainslee's Magazine, 
March, PETITION, Ainslee's Magazine, November, 

LADE, Ainslee's Magazine, April 

Fraley, Frederick TESTIMONY, Contemporary Terse Novem- 
ber, 1919 

Frank, Florence Kiper BIBTHDAT, Contemporary Verse, 
January, MOTHERS OF THE WORLD, Contemporary 
Verse, January, SOLDIEB, Contemporary Yerae, January. 

Frazee-Bower, Helen MY LVUGHTEB, The Pagan, April-Ma^ 

Frederick, John Towner THE ORCHARD, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, October, 1919 

Freeman, Joseph L GLORIA MTJNDI, The Nation, March 6. 

Frost, Robert. FRAGMENTABY BLUE, Harper's Magazine, 
July, FOR ONCE, THEN, SOMETHING, Harper's Maga- 
zine, July, PALCE FOB A THIRD, Harper's Magazine, 
July, To E. T. (EDWABD THOMAS), The Yale Renew, 

Fujita, Jun TANKA, Poetry, A Magazine of Terse, November, 

Galahad, Joseph Andrew THE KNIFE, The Norfk American 
Renew, May 

Gale, Zona. THE SECRET LOVE, Harper's Magasine, October, 

Galloway, Elizabeth Joan THE THEATBE, Contemporary 
Verse, February 

Garesche, S J , Edward NIAQAEA IN WINTEB, The Catholic 
World, January. 

Garman, A D YAWP, The Pagan, April-May 

Garnett, Louise Ayres. AH'S MABCHIN' ON TO DOOMSDAY, 
The Outlook, June 2, BLACK AND WHITE, The New 
Republic, February 18, HOUND AT NIGHT, Poetry, A 
Magasine of Verse, December, 1919; How LONG, 
MASS JESUS, How LONG? The Outlook, May 5, IVOEY 
THUMBS, The Outlook, July 21; LITTLE CHIEF, Poetry, 
A Magaxine of Verse, December, 1919, NIGGBH HEV- 
BEN, The Outlook, June 23, OXFTC^ST, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, December, 1919, REFLECTIONS, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, December, 1919, SONG, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, December, 1919; THE PHODIGAL, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, December, 1919 

Garrett, Clara Maude RENEWAL, Ainslee's Magasine, 

Garrison, Theodosia THE HOSTS or MABY, Scribner'* 
Magazine, December, 1919, 

Gessler, Clifford Franklin FREE RUSSIA, The Nation, August 
9, 1919, To A Giaii ON ROLLEB SKATES, Contemporary 
Verse, December, 1919 


Gibson, Wilfred Wilson Is KHAKI, The Yale Renew, October, 
1919; MEDICAL OFFICER'S CLERK, The Yale Review, 
October, 1919, SENTRY Go, The Yale Remew, October, 
1S19; THE KITTIWAKE, The Yale Review, October, 1919 

Gidlow, Elsie A AT THE Top OF THE WORLD, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, October, 1919, NEVER ANT FEAR, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919 

Gilchrist, Marie Emile EN RotrrE THE NEW ENGLAND 
EXPRESS, The Nation, March IS. 

Giltinan, Caroline ALONE IN SPBING, Contemporary Verse; 
BtTBBLES, American Poetry Magazine; ENOUGH, Ameri- 
can Poetry Magazine; THE BALL, The Catholic World, 
THE DISGUISE, "The Stars and Stnpes," December 18, 
1919, THE FIRST CHRISTMAS, The Cathoho World, 
December, 1919, THE VISITOR, The Catholic World; 
TRIUMPH, Contemporary Verse 

Ginsberg, Louis APRIL, The Argosy, April S, OLD HOUSES, 
The N. Y, Times, January 9, TREASURES, The Argosy, 
May 15. 

Glaenzer, Richard Butler DRY-POINT op MRS JAMES LUCE, 
Contemporary Verse, December, 1919, NASTURTIUM 
(Sonnetina). Ainslee's Magazine, January; THE 
CHINESE COAT, The Bookman, April 

Gordon, David. A SPRING RONDEL, Harper's Magazine, 

Gorman, Herbert S I CANNOT Pur You AWAY, The N Y 
Sun Books and Book World, January 18, LILITH, 
LILITH, The N Y Sun Books and Book World, February 
1, THE CABIN IN THE WOOD, The N Y Sun Books 
and Book World, February 15; THE FANATIC, The 
N Y Sun Books and Book World, December 28, 1919 

Gramch, Irwin SURRENDER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

Gray, Daniel W DUST, Contemporary Verse, November, 
1919, THE DEATH or THE LIZZIE, Contemporary 
Verse, November, 1919. 

Griffith, William A FOREST RENDEZVOUS, The Smart Set, 
September, 1919, A SONG OF PIERROT, Ainslee's 
Magazine, February, ADBLINA PATTI, The N Y Sun 
Books and Book World, November 2, 1919, I, WHO 
FADE WITH THE LILACS, The N Y Sun Books and 
Book World, August 10, 1919, I, WHO LAUGHED Mr 
YOUTH AWAY, Ainslee's Magazine, August, 1919 

Guiterman, Arthur A BALLADS AGAINST CRITICS, Harper's 
Magaxme, August, 1919, HOME AGAIN, The Outlook, 
November 26, 1919, How LYRICS ARE BORN, The 
Bookman, May 

Halbrook, Nellie R TOLL, Contemporary Verse, May 

Hall, Amanda SINGER' O SINGER' Poetry, A Magazine 


of Verse, March, STORM, Contemporary Verse, July; 
THE DANCES IN THB SHBINE, Contemporary Verse, 
April, THE DISH-WASHER, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, March, VALUES, Contemporary Verse, July, 
WAIF, Contemporary Verse, January 

Hall, Carolyn GBEY MOTH, Contemporary Verse, June 

Hall Hazel CAPTIVE, Harper's Magazine, October, 1919, 
LOCKED OUT, Ainslee's Magazine, March, MASKS, 
The Nation, February 28, NEEDLEWORK, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, April, THE LITTLE HOUSE, Harper's 
Magazine, November, 1919; SONGS FOB DEEAMS, 
Contemporary Verse, December, 1919; THREE GIRLS, 
The Century Magazine 

Haller, Malleville IN THE SUBWAY, Scnbner's Magazine, 

Hammond, Eleanor BEGGAB, Contemporary Verse, May, 
CHRONOMETERS, Contemporary Verse, May; KISSES, 
Contemporary Verse, May, MORIBUND, Contemporary 
Verse, May, THE MOUNTAIN BROOK, Contemporary 
Verse, May, TRANSITION, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, 
June, UNFULFILLED, Contemporary Verse, May, WHITE 
WATEB, Contemporary Verse, May, WINTER WOODS, 
Contemporary Verse, January. 

Hanlme, Maurice A DBINKS, Contemporary Verse, January. 

Hanley, Elizabeth CONVERSION, The Bookman, April. 

Hardy, Evelyn A ST-^B, Rcnbner's Magazine, April. 

Hare, Amory APRIL, Contemporary Verse, August, 191S; 
AUGUST MOON, Contemporary Verse, August, 1919; 
Contemporary ferse, August, 1919, BLIND, Contempo- 
rary Verse, August, 1919, BY THE HEARTH, Contem- 
porary Verse, August, 1919, BT THE WINDOW, Con- 
temporary Verse, August 1019; CHOPTTCLEEK, Con- 
temporary Verse, August, 1919; MOODS, Contemporary 
Verse, August, 1919, MOON MAGIC, Contemporary 
Verse, August, 1919; OUTSIDE AND IN, Contemporary 
Verse, August, 1919, REMEMBERED, Contemporary 
Verse, August, 1919; "So SLIM, AJTO SWIFT AND GLAD 
WAS SHE, Contemporary Verse, August, 1919; " SHINE, " 
Contemporary Verse, August, 1919; SONNET I, Con- 
temporary Verse, August, 1919; SONNET II, Contem- 
porary Verse, August, 1919; SURGERY, Contemporary 
Verse, August, 1919; THE DEAD, Contemporary Verse, 
August, 1919, THB OLD BOAD, Contemporary Verse, 
August, 1919; UNSOLVED, Contemporary Verte, August, 
1919, WALKING AT NIGHT, Contemporary Verte, 
August, 1919 

Harper, babel Westcott To THB GYPSY GIBL, Scnbner's 
Magazine, November, 1819. 

Haste, Gwendolen. BOOT HILL GRAVETABD, The Midland, 


A Magazine of the Middle Wett, September-October, 

Hartley, Marsden GIRL WITH THE CAMELIA SMILE, Poetry 
Magazine of Verse, May, ESPANOL, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, May, SATURDAY, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, May, THE ASSES' OUT-HOUSE, Poetry, A Maga- 
xine of Verse, May, THE FESTIVAL OF THE CORN, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verve, May, THE TOPAZ OF 
THE SIXTIES, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May; 
To C , Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May 

Hawkridge, Emma HOPI SUN-CHRISTENING, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, January 

Hayne, William Hamilton APRIL, Scnbner's Magazine, 
May, LEAVES, Ainslee'a Magazine, January 

Head, Cloyd and Gavin, Mary THE CURTAINS, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, April 

Heideman, Miriam AFTER DEATH, The Detroit Sunday Nevx, 
May 16, SONG, The Detroit Sunday News, March 12. 

Henderson, Daniel A NATURE-LOVEB PASSES, Harper's 
Magazine, August, 1919, LOVE AND LYRE, Contempo- 
rary Verse, October, 1919, THE POET'S PATH, Con- 
temporary Verse, December, 1919. 

Henderson, Rose NIGHT, Contemporary Verse, December, 

Henderson, Ruth E THB DARK, The Nation, December 18, 

Hendrix, Mrs W S OCTOBER'S CHILD, The Texas Renew, 
October, 1919 

Hensel, Gladys THE SHEPHERD HYMN, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, June 

Hepburn, Elizabeth Ne-wport A PRIESTESS or APOLLO, 
Ainslee's Magazine, January 

Herold, Leon MELANCHOLY AND JOY, The Detroit Sunday 
News, March 28, YOULIA, The Detroit Sunday News, 
March 21 

Hersey, Marie Louise CONTRASTS Contemporary Verse, 

Herron, Vennette THE GAME, Ainslee's Magazine, Apnl 

Hewitt, Ethel M Ivory Harper's Magazine, November, 1919. 

fleyward, DuBose THE MOUNTAIN WOMAN, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, July 

Heyward, Jame Screven DAFFODILS, Contemporary Verse, 

BE?" The Catholic World, October, 1919 

Hill, Frank Ernest THE FLYERS, The Nation, January 10 

Hiflman, Carolyn SUGAB MICE, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, December, 1919 WREATHS, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, December, 1919 

HiUman, Gordon Malherbe SEA LURE, Adventure, February 


18, SPANISH LINERS, The Boston Transcript, Novem- 
ber 12, THE SIREN, The Christian Science Monitor, 
June 25; THE TANKERS, Adventure 

Hillyer, Robert BALLADE, The Dial, March THE MIBEORS, 
The Sonnet, November-December, 1919 VIGIL, The 
Sonnet, November-December, 1919 

Hoffman, Phoebe THE CIVIL ENGINEERS, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919, THE POET FIXDS HIMSELF, 
Contemporary Verse, January 

Holbrook, Weare THE MIDDLE YEARS, The Midland, A 
Magazine of the Middle West, April 

Holden, Raymond SUGARING, Poetry, A Magazine of Terse, 
July, THOMPSON STREET, The Midland, A Magazine of 
the Middle West, January-February-March, To THE 
DEAD, NEW YEAE'S E\E, 1919, The Midland, A Maga- 
zine of the Middle West, January-February -March. 

Holden, Raymond Two WOBLDB, The Midland, A Maga- 
zine of the Middle West, January-February-March. 

Holt, Florence Taber FLOWEBS, The Dial, February, THE 
WIND OF LO\E, The Dial, February; To PAX, The Did, 

Holladay, Paula MEMORY, Ainslee's Magazine, March 

Housman, Laurence To A RIDER DROWNED AT SEA, The 
New Republic, May 26 

Hoyt, Helen. AUTOMOBILES ON SUNDAY, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, March; BY THE LAKE, A Magazine of Verse, 
March; CHICAGO, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March; 
CREATOR, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March, EN- 
COUNTER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March; HEAD- 
STONE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March, NIGHT, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March, ROCK AXD SEA, 
The Stratford Journal, September, 1919, THE FIRST 
TIME I LOVED, Aintlee** Magazine, February; THE 
STONE- AGE SEA, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March, 
THERE WAS A TIME, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
March, WHEN WE ARE ASLEEP, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, March 

Hoyt, Henry Martyn THE BALLAD MONGER, The Outlook, 

Howe, Susanne. THE SANATORIUM, Contemporary Verse, 

Howell, Lucde Topping. LITTLE MOTHER WITH SNOW- 
WHITE HAIR, The Woman's World, May 

Hooke, Hilda M THE VAGABOND, Contemporary Verse, 
November, 1919 

Huckfield. Leyland. A WINTER GALE, Contemporary Verse, 
February; THE SIXGINQ SKULL, Contemporary Verse, 
December, 1919 

Huddleston, Mabel Barker THE ROOF-GARDKN, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, May. 

Hughes, Glenn REVELATION, Aimless Magazine, May. 
Hunter, Isabel Robins (By a child of thirteen.) THE ATTACK 
ON THE TT.*TM8a*, The New York Times, May 9 

J , S V. L'EaiJBE A COLLIOURE, Stars and Stnpes, January 10 

Jackson, Leroy F CHARLEY, The Midland, A Magazine of 
the Middle West, July-August, 1919; SUNDAY, The 
Midland., A Magazine of the Middle West, July-August, 
1919, THE COYOTE, The Midland, A Magazine of the 
Middle West, July-August, 1919 

Jenkins, Oliver LIVIN'? The Open Road, March; ON AND ON, 
The Boston Transcript, November 12, 1919, SPARKS, 
The Boston Transcript, December 24, 1919; THE OLD 
CATHEDRA.L, The Boston Transcript, December 18, 
1919, TINSEL, The Botton Transcript, November 15, 

Jenney, Florence G. SONNET, The Midland, A Magazine of 
the Middle West, April 

Jennings, Leslie Nelson. BARS, Ainslee's Magazine, October, 
1919; COME WITH YOCB FLUTE, Ainslee's Magazine, 
February; GOSSIP, Ainslee's Magazine, January, 
RUTHERFORD, Contemporary Verse, September, 1919, 
THE PUPPET BOOTH, The Nation, March 6; THIS 
DUST OF DREAMS, The Nation, February 21; To BE 
REMEMBERED, Contemporary Verse, September, 1919, 
TRANSMUTATION, Scnbner's Magazine, September, 

Jessup, Frederika Peterson THE CHILD TO THE GHOST OF 
KABIN, Scnbner's Magazine, January. 

Jevett, Eleanore Myers BEFORE You CAME, The Woman's 
World, March. 

Johnson, Ida Judith CHANGED, Contemporary Verse, Decem- 
ber, 1919 

Johnson, Vlyn FRIENDS, Contemporary Verse, June. 

Johnston, William. SKETCH, The Midland, A Magazine of 
the Middle West, May. 

Jolas, Eugene VAGABOND, The Pagan, April-May 

Jones, Howard Mumford THEY THAT DWELL IN SHADOW, 
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, January- 

Jones, Ralph. Mortimer. A PRAYER, Contemporary Verse, 

Jones, Ruth Lambert. Companion, The BooJeman, September, 
1919, ECHOES, Contemporary Verse, December, 1919, 
INVIOLATE, The Bookman, January; THE PRODIGAL, 
Scnbner's Magazine, January, To HER, Contemporary 
Verse, December, 1919. 

IN JUNE TIME, The Woman's World, June. 


Kauffman, Reginald Wright. RECOGNITION-, The Century 
Magazine, November, 1919. 

Kearney, Clytie Hazel. LOST MOON, Contemporary Veru, 
September, 1919. 

Kelley, Leone SNOW, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, January. 

Kemp, Harry. DISPABITY, Ainslec's Magazine, May, HE 
DID NOT Know, The Century Magazine, October, 1919; 
I KNOW THAT FLOWEBS FADE, Ainslec's Magazine, 
April; INSOMNIA, The Outlook, January 14; THE TBAV- 
ELEE, Ainslee's Magazine, December, 1919, To FI\M- 
ETTA, Ainslee't Magazine, August, 1919, You TALK OF 
THIS AND THAT, The Outlook, January 28 

Kempson, John Whitman THB RIVEB LEAF (SAILING A 
CANOE ON THE HUDSON), Contemporary Verte, July. 

Kenyon, Bernice Lesbia. DISTRACTION, The Sonnet, Septem- 
ber-October, 1919; EABTH-BOUND, The Sonnet, March- 

Kenyon, Doris THE BIHTH OF THE FIHEFI.T, Aintlee't 
Magazine, January 

Keyes, Franklin C A BAI&AD OF DYING, The Catholic 
World, November, 1919. 

Kilbourne, Fannie. FAITHFULNESS, Amsltes Magazine, 

Kilmer, Aline. ATONEMENT, The Outlook, May 19; THE GAB- 
DEN, The Bookman, March. 

Krainin, Blanche TBIUMPH, The Pagan, April-May. 

Kreymborg, Alfred. DOBOTHY, The Dial, March; CRADLE, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verge, February; INDIAN SET, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, January; Miss SVL'S 
MONOLOGUE, Contemporary Verte, February; SFIBIT, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, February. 

Harper t Magazine, January; To W. C. W. M D. 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, February. 

Laird, William. BACKGBOUNDS, Contemporary Verte, April. 

Lake, Stuart N DAD AN' ME, The Outlool, June 9. 

Langebek, May Wyon COHFOBTEBS, The Midland, A Maga- 
zine of the Middle West, January-February-Marck. 

Laprade, M. PEACE WITH HONOR, Harper's Magazine, 
October, 1919; THE BANDICOOT, Harper't Magazine, 
Magazine, December, 1919; THE RIME OF THE LAST 
BOLSHEVIST, Harper's Magazine, February. 

Laramore, Vivian Yeiser. LOVE'S GIFTS, The Woman't 
World, January, ON MOTHER'S DAT, The Women'* 
World, May. 

Larson, Ernest . SONG, The Detroit Sunday Newt, March 2. 

Lawless, Margaret H. OPPOBTUNITT, The C. L. of (7. Index, 


LeCron, Helen Cowles. FAMTT.TAR, Contemporary Verse, 
April, PEATEB IN SPRING, Contemporary Verse, April 

Le Galhenne, Hesper A VILLANELLD op LIFE AND DEATH, 
Harper's Magazine, December, 1919, THE PATIENT 
GODS, Harper's Magazine, August, 1919 

Le Gallienne, Richard A BOOKMAN'S BULADE, Harper's 
Magazine, November, 1919, A BALLADE OP PESSI- 
MISTS, Harper's Magazine, February; A WALKING 
SONG, Harper's Magazine, April, BALLADE op His 
LADY'S WARDROBE Ainslee's Magazine, January, 
Ainslee's Magazine, April, CARRE DIEM, Ainslee's 
Magazine, November, 1919, CATALOGUE OF LOVELY 
THINGS, Harper's Magazine, February, IN THE WOODS 
AT MIDSUMMER, Ainslee's Magazine, August, 1919, 
man, January; WHENE'ER I SING OF You, Ainslee's 
Magazine, February 

Leonard, Dorothy THE PROOF, The Outlook, May 12, "You 
THINK ME COLD, " Harper's Magazine, February. 

Leroi, Ralph IN A VIRGINIA GARDEN, The New Republic, 
February 18. 

Lesemann, Maurice APPOINTMENT, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April, No POEM, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
April; THE CRYING CHANES, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April; To HIMSELF IN AUTUMN, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, April; TRAMPS, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April 

Lewis, Charlton METHUSALEH, The Yale Review, April. 

Lee, Agnes. MRS. MALOOLY, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
June; OLD LIZETTE ON SLEEP, Poetry, A Magaytne of 
Verse, June; THE ANCIENT SINGER, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, June; THE ILEX TREE, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, June. 

Lee, Harry- FOB REMEMBRANCE, The Outlook, June 2, 
THE LETTER-CARRIER, The Outlook, June 16; To THE 
SUPREME, The Catholic World, March 

Lee, Muna, REGRET, Ainslee't Magazine, October, 1919; 
THINGS THAT Do NOT CHANGE, Ainslee's Magazine, 

Lewis, Janet Lesley AUSTERITY, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, June; FOSSIL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, ' 
June; GEOLOGY, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June, < 
THE END OF THE AGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

Lieberman, Elias BALLADE OF LOST ILLUSIONS, Ainslee's 
Magazine, February, GARGOYLES, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919. 

Lincoln, Elliot C GRAY BUTTE, Contemporary Verse, June, 


MONTANA NIGHT, Contemporary Verse, December, 
1919, MRS SENATOR JONES, Contemporary Verge, 
December, 1919 

Linderman, Frank B MY FRIEND PETE LEBEAUX, ScrHmer'* 
Maga"ine, 1919 

Lippmann, L Blackledge TWILIGHT, Harper's Magazine, 

Livesay, Florence Randal GOLD LADIES, Contemporary 
Verse, December, 1919. 

Lowell, Amy A LEGEND OF PORCELAIN, The JVorfA American 
Renew, March, A SHOTVEB, The Century Magazine, 
April, AUTUMN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Septem- 
ber, 1919, BALLS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, Sep- 
tember, 1919, FRIMAIRE, Scribner"s Magazine, August, 
1919, GAVOTTE IK D MINOR, The Dial, June; GOOD 
GRACIOUS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 
North American Renew, October, 1919, MEMORANDUM 
man, November-December, 1919, MERELY STATE- 
BUBBLE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 
1919, THE ARTIST, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
September, 1919; THE BOOKSHOP, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, September, 1919; TREES IN WINTER, The 
North American Renew, October, 1919. 

Lowie, Risa PEACE, The A>ic Republic, May 12. 

Lowrey, Perrm Holmes DAWN IN THE HILLS, Contemporary 
Verse, April, GIFTS, Ainslee's Magazine, January; 
THE THYSTINO WOODS, Contemporary Verse, April; 
To A MOCKING BIRD, Contemporary Verse, April 

Sonnet, March-April. 

Luckow, Ruth. DOVES, Contemporary Verse, June 

Lyster, M DAWN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 
Magazine of Verse, October, 1919 

M Farewell. Contemporary Verse, May 

M , S M. FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY, The Catholic World, June 

Maclntyre, Carlyle F. ELF Music, Ainslee's Magazine, 

April; THE DREAMER IN THE SUN, Ainslee's Magazine, 

November, 1919; THE MAGIC INN, Ainslee's Maga-nne, 

October, 1919. 
Mala, Yenomdrah. THE BODY AND THE SOUL, The New 

Republic, December 31, 1919. 
Markka^, Lucia Clark. To GERALDINE FARRAB AS "JOAN 

THIS WOMAN," Contemporary Verse, May. 
Marks, Jeannette, EVEN AS HEBE, The Nation, June 5, 

GREEN GOLDEN DOOR, The Next Republic, March 3; JOUR- 


NET'S END, Ainslee'a Magazine, March, MANT SORROWS, 
The Outlook, May 26, ROSY MILLER, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, March, SEA-GULLS, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, March, Two CANDLES, The North American 
Review, August, 1919 

Masters, Edgar Lee. A REPUBLIC, The Nation, September 
27, 1919 

Marple, Charles P. WOMAN, Harper's Magazine, January. 

Masefield, John. FOUR SONNETS, Contemporary Verse, 
April; LTHIC, The Yale Review, January; THE PASSING 
STRANGE, The Yale Review, April 

Marshall, Marguerite Moores A SONG OP LOVES MORTAL, 
Ainslee't Magazine, November, 1919, BJBSUBGAM, 
Ainslee's Magazine, October, 1919. 

Martyn, Wyndham. AUTRE TEMPS, Ainslee's Magazine, 

Matson, Mabel Cornelia WHVT GRIEF? Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, May 

Maynard, Theodore THE DENIAL, The Outlook, July 14 

Meadowcroft, Clara Pratt ROAD SONG, Contemporary Verse, 

Menngton, Marguerite ADAM DAULAC, The North American 
Review, April. 

Merryman, Mildred Plew. Two AT A CONCERT, Contemporary 
Verse, May. 

Meyer, Josephine A , EPITAPH, Aimless Magazine, December, 

Meyer, Lucy Rider. DEY"B A LI'L SEC FEET op GROUN', SOME- 
WHERB (A SPIRITUAL), The Outlook, December 17, 
UAL), The Outlook, March 24 

MidcQeton, Scudder. OVEBHEAD, Harper's Magazine, October, 
1919; SONO IN THE KEY OF AUTUMN, The Century 
Magazine, November, 1919, THE WORKER, Harper's 
Magazine, December, 1919 

Millay, Edna St Vincent DOUBT NO MORE THAT OBEBOW, 
The Nation, April 13, INLAND, Aintlee'a Magazine, 
November, 1919, MABIPOSA, Ainslees Magazine. May; 
MIRAGE, Aintlse't Magazine, March; ROSEMABT, 
Ainslee's Magazine, October, 1919; SHRINE, Ainslee's 
Magasine, September, 1919, SONG OF A SECOND APRIL, 
Aiwlee't Magazine, February, SONNET, Aimlee's 
Magazine, April; THE DEATH OF AUTUMN, The Nation, 
October 25, 1919, To LOVE IMPUISSANT, The Dial, 

Miller, Florette Truesdell. THE MANDOLIN, The Stratford 
Journal, October-December, 1919; THB WIND'S WAT, 
The Stratford Journal, October-December, 1919. 

Miller, J. Corson. APHRODITB, The Forum, February, BXBTON 
LOVE-SONG, The Botton Transcript, February 4, CHBIST- 

MAS IN THE ARGONNE, The N Y. Times, December 19, 
1919, DEDICATION, The Magnificat, September, 1919; 
KUNNA, The Boston Transcript, April 7; LIFE'S 
GBAT SHADOWS, The Forum, December, 1919, MADONNA 
OP THE MOONLIT HOURS, The Are Maria, May 8, 
8, RECOMPENSE, The Forum, Aprfl-Maj , REMEMBRANCE, 
The Boston Transcript, December 24, 1919, SONG- 
MAKERS, The Boston Transcript, December 3, THE 
MARCH OP HUMANITY, The Nation, September 6, 
1919, THE RAINBOW, The Catholic World, July; THE 
VICTOR, The Rosary Magazine, February; THE WORLD, 
The Catholic World, June; TRANSFORMATION, The N. Y. 
Times, January 6 

Minas, Lootfi THE INFINITE DESIRE, Translated from the 
.Armenian by B A. Botkin, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919 

Mitchell, Ruth Comfort. THE CHOOSING, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919. 

Monro, Harold. Crrrr STORM, Poetry, A Magazine of Terse, 
March; INTROSPECTION, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

Moore, William Dyer. KINO ARTHUR'S RETURN, The Texas 
Review, October, 1919 

Morgan, Angela. THE DOER, The Outlook, December 31, 1919. 

Morgan, Emanuel STATUES, The Nation, February 14 

Morton, David A CERTAIN OAK, Aintlee's Magazine, 
February; A CERTAIN ONE WHO DIED, Ainslee's 
Magazine, January; A GARDEN WALL, The Bookman, 
September, 1919; ALCHBMIES, The Nation, March 6; 
IN THE CEMETERY, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
February; MARINERS, Harper's Magazine, August, 
1919; SORROW IN SPRING, Aintlee's Magazine, May; 
SUMMER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; SYMBOLS, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; THE CONVICT, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February; To WILLIAM 
and Book World, July 27, 1819; TRANSFIGURATION, 
Ainslee'f Magazine, September, 1919; WRITS, The 
Bookman, November-December, 1919. 

Morris, Keneth. A MORNING IN SEPTEMBER, Contemporary 
Verse, June; EVENING OVER FALSE BAT, Contemporary 
Verse, June, NOON ON THE HILLSIDE, Contemporary 
Verse, June; PAMPAS-GRASS, Contemporary Verse, 
June; THB FLOWERS, Contemporary Verse, June; THE 
RAIN, Contemporary Verse, June 

Moult, Thomas. HERE FOR A TIME, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, July. 

Mount, Richard NOCTURNE, The Detroit Sunday News, 
February 2. 


Moore, Edward Roberts JESUS, The Catholic World, May 

Moore, Marianne ENGLAND, The Dial, April, PICKING AND 
CHOOSING, The Dial, April 

Muller, Julius W PRISONER OF BELSHAZZAR, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919 

Munsterberg, Margaret. Two SONNETS ON PAINTINGS BY 
JE IN FRANCOIS MILLET, The Stratford Journal, Septem- 
ber, 1919. 

Murphy, Charles R IN THE MAKING or A HOUSE, Contem- 
porary Verse, July; THRENODY, Contemporary Verse, 
July, To FRANCE, Contemporary Verse, November, 
1919; WINTER-BOUND, Contemporary Verse, February 

Muth, Edna Tucker THE FRESHMAN, The Midland, A Maga- 
zine of the Middle West, November-December, 1919 

McCarthy, John Russell OUR FRIENDS, Contemporary Verse, 
March? WILD ASTER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
December, 1919. 

McClellan, Walter To V C G , The Midland, A Magazine 
of the Middle West, November-December, 1919 

McCluskey, Katharine Wisner A HEAT WAVE, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, July, A JESTER, Contemporary 
Verse, March, CONFESSIONAL, Contemporary Verse, 
October, 1919, DARKNESS, Contemporary Verse, June; 
ENVYINGS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July. 

McConnell, Anna B ACCURACY, Contemporary Verse, Novem- 
ber, 1919 

McCourt, Edna Wahlert QUERY, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, May, STRANGERS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
May; You AND I, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May 

McDougal, Mary Carmack THE JOKE, Contemporary Verse, 
Contemporary Verse, January, To SOMETHING INDOMIT- 
TABLE, Contemporary Verse, January 

McFarland, Helen. A WISH, Harper's Magazine, April 

Mclntyre, Carlyle F COMPENSATIONS, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, May, LADY OP AUTUMN, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, May, THE HOUSE OF LAURELS, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, May; THE MOURNERS, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, May; THE BRIMMING CUP, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, May; THE GREEN DOOR, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, May, THE UNTAMED, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, May. 

McKenny, Margaret SUMMER, Contemporary Verse, July, 
SWEETPEAS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July, THE 
MEADOW, Contemporary Verse, July 

McLeod, Irene Rutherford. APRIL, The New Republic, May 
12; FREE WILL, The Century Magazine, June 

N , A. OUT OF THE DARK, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June* 
Neilson, Caroline. DAWN, Contemporary Verse, June 


Nevin, Hardwicke SOISSONS, Scnbner'a Magazine, May 

Nichols, Robert. INVOCATION, The Century Magazine, Novem- 
ber, 1919, SEVENTEEN, The Yale Reneir, April; SONG 
AND SOUL, The Century Magazine, January; THE 
FLOWEB op FLAME, Poetry* A Magazine of Verse, 
November, 1919; THE LONG ROAD, The Century 
Magazine, June, THE PILGRIM, The Century Magazine, 
June, THE SPRIG OF LIME, The Yale Renew, January 

Nicholl, Louise Townsend IJT THE STBEET, The Midland, A 
Magazine of the Middle West, April, REVELATION, 
Contemporary Verse, September, 1919; WEAVES, 
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, September- 
October, 1919 

Noguchi, Yone HOKKU, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, Novem- 
ber, 1919 

Norman, H L CROONING CREEDS, The Stratford Journal, 
August, 1919 

Norton, Grace Fallow "GooD-BT, PROUD WORLD, Tie 
GOING HOME!" Harper's Magazine, August, 1919, 
OB DID You LOVE DEATH* Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, February, THE BURNED HOUSE, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, February. 

Norris, W. A. AFTER SNOW, Contemporary Verse, January. 

Novak, Ruthele IN A DINING CAR, Contemporary Verse, 

Noyes, Alfred, CHRISTMAS, 1919, The Outlool, December 17, 
1919, MOUNTAIN LVUREL, The Yale Renev, April. 

0*Bnen, Mary J. THE HOLT TREE, The Catholic World, March. 

O'Connor, Armel. BEIUTY, The Catholic World, February. 

O'Conor, Norreys Jephson BELLS OF ERIN, Contemporary 
Verse, March; Moray's KEENING. Contemporary Verse, 
October, 1919, THE ROAD, Contemporary Verse, 
March; THE SONG WITHOUT END, Contemporary 
Verse, March. 

RUPERT BROOKE, The Sonnet, January-February; 
TRANSFORMATION, The Bookman, November-December, 
1919; TWILIGHT, The Bookman, March. 

Oliver, Wade BROKEN STABS, Contemporary Verse, July; 
LYRIC SILENCE, Contemporary Verse, July; THE NAME, 
Contemporary Verse, July 

Olivier, Sydney. TRANSPARENCY, Ainslee** Magazine, Novem- 
ber, 1919. 

Olson, Ted. CLOUDS, Contemporary Verse, November, 1919; 
SYMBOL, Contemporary Verse, June. 

O'Neil, George CIRCE, Contemporary Verse, March; SONG 
OF THE WANDERLUST, The Century Magcmne, April; 
YOUTH IN MiD-SuMMEJt, Contemporary Verse, July. 


O'Neil, Ida To A PERSIAN MANUSCRIPT The Nation, August 

2, 1910 

O'Neill, Genevieve D DESPAIR, Contemporary Verse, June 
O'Neill, Sheila THE TEST, Contemporary Verse, January, 

To ONE AFAR, The Pagan, April-May 
O'Seasnain, Brian Padraic THE SILENCES, The Catholut 
World, August, 1919 

Paine, Albert Bigelow. THAW, Harper's Magazine, February 

The Pagan, April-May 

Pamsh, Emma Kenyon JOT, Contemporary Verse, May, 
WHITE AND GOLD, Contemporary Verse, December, 

Patterson, Antoinette De Coursey MOONLIGHT IN THIS 
BIKCH WOOD, Contemporary Verse, June; THE RE- 
SPONSE, Contemporary Verse, June, THE SEA TO-DAY, 
Ainslees Magazine, November, 1919. 

Patterson, Jean Rushmore. KING ALBEBT COMES' The 
Outlook, October 1, 1919. 

Peabody, Josephine Prestton. PORTR*JT OF A DAUGHTER, 
Contemporary Verse, November, 1919 

Peace, Arthur Wallace. A DAT FROM PARADISE, The Woman's 
World, January 

Pennant, Antoinette West MEED, Harper's Magazine, 

Percy, Wilham Alexander ADVENTURE, Contemporary Verse, 
May; AUTUMNAL, Scnbner's Magazine, March; FAR- 
MERS, Contemporary Verse, May. 

Peterson, Frederick. THE WINTER GARDEN, The Nation, 
January 17. 

Pettus, Martha Elvira. SISTER TERESA (!N MEMORIAK), 
The Catholic World, August, 1919. 

Perry, Lilla Cabot, FORGIVE ME NOT' Harper's Magazine, 
May, THE CUP, Harper's Magasine, May; THE ROSE, 
Harper's Magazine, May. 

Peyton, John R. C SHOOTING STAR, Contemporary Verse, 
February; THE LAKE AND I, Contemporary Verse, 
February; TIME, Contemporary Verse, February, 
WOLVES, Contemporary Verse, February. 

Phfllpotts, Eden. ON ETLESBARROW, Scnbner's Magasine, 
November, 1919. 

Piper, Edwin Ford BINDLESTUT, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, January, SWEETGKASS RANGE, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, January, WHOA, ZBBE, WHOA, Poetry, 
A Magasine of Verse, January. 

Pinckney, Josephine L S NUWIAJO, Contemporary Verse, 
September, 1919. 

Pinder, Frances Dickenson INLAND, Contemporary Verse, 
September, 1919 


Pimfer, Alice THE WIND, Contemporary Verse, May 

The Stratford Journal, September, 1919. 
Portor, Laura Spencer. THE SHEPHERDS, Harper'* Magazine, 

December, 1919 

Pound, Ezra THE FOTTBTH CVNTO, The Dial, June. 
Powers, C S P , Charles J A PRAYEB CPON THE SEA. The 

Catholic World, March 
Powys, John Copper THE RIDDLE, Poetry, A Magazine of 

Verse, June 
Prall, Dorothea RETICENCE, Contemporary Verse, May. 

Quinter, George E FROM THE BEACH, Contemporary Verge, 

October, 1919. 

BOOK OF POEMS. To MY MOTHER, The Catholic World, 


Raskin, P. M THE GAME, The Stratford Journal, September, 

Ravenel, Beatrice Lv, Contemporary Verte, March, THB 
ATHEIST, Contemporary Verse, March, THE HTTMOEISTB, 
Contemporary Verge, November, 1919, To A POET, 
Contemporary Verte, March. 

Raymond, Bernard. CAPBICE, The Midland, A Magazine of 
the Middle West, November-December, 1919; DECEM- 
BEB WOODS, The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle 
West, November-December, 1919; IF I Go DOWN, 
The Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, Novem- 
ber-December, 1919; WHITE MAGIC, The Midland, A 
Magazine of the Middle Weft, November-December, 

Redfield, Louise. A SET CHILD, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
April, AFTER FEVER, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

Reed, John. FOG, Scribner's Magazine, August, 1919. 

Reese, Lizette Woodworth. To TIME (ON A FALSE LOVER), 
Contemporary Verse, July, OLD ELI, Contemporary 
Verse, July, I WEEP TOR Hue, Aimlee't Magazine, 
March; Tfg SON, Contemporary Verte, November, 

Rich, H. Thompson. NOCTURNE REUEETING, Aintlee't 
Magazine, December, 1919. 

Richardson, Mabel Kingsley. A SHORT STOKT, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919. 

Ridge, Lola. AN OLD WORKMAN, The New Republic, May 19; 
CANARIES, Aintlee't Magazine, January; FRIENDS, 
Ainslee"* Magazine, December, 1919, IN HARNESS, 
The New Republic, May 26; Mr CAEE, Atntlee't 
Magazine, March; NEW ORLEANS, The New Republic, 


May 12, THE SPOILER, Ainslee's Magazine, August, 
1919, UNVEILING, Ainslee's Magazine, October, 1919, 
WIND IN THE ALLEYS, The New Republic, May 12 

Rittenhouse, Jessie B THE QUEST, Harper's Magazine, 

Bivola, Flora Shufelt HEART-CRY, The Midland, A Magazine 
of the Middle West, July-August, 1919, PBOMISE, The 
Midland, A Magazine of the Middle West, July-Augast, 

Roberts, Mary Eleanor A POET IN THE CITY, Contemporary 
Verse, September, 1919; THE COQUETTE TO THE 
APPLE-EATER, Contemporary Verse, September, 1919 

Roberts, Walter Adolphe. AVB (MADAME OLGA PETROVA, 
Ainslee's Magazine, April, THE CELT, The Century 
Magazine, December, 1919, THE DREAMERS, Ainslee's 
Magazine, February, TIGEH LILY, Ainslee's Magazine, 
November, 1919. 

Robinson, Ed-win. Arlington INFERENTIAL, The Dial, Janu- 
ary, TACT, The Yale Renew, January, THE WANDERING 
JEW, The Outlook, December 24, 1919 

Rodker, John. THE SEARCHLIGHT, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, October, 1919 

Roe, Robert J LOVE, The New Republic, February 18, 
MOUNTAINS, The New Republic, December SI, 1919, 
THE CAPTAIN'S WIFE, The New Republic, March 17; 
THE ETERNAL BATTLE, Contemporary Verse, Novem- 
ber, 1919, THE LINK, Contemporary Verse, November, 
1919; WORSHIP, Contemporary Verse, November, 

Rollins, Leighton. SONG AT DUSK, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919 

Roof, Katharine Metcalf MIRAGE, Ainslee's Magazine, 
December, 1919 

Root, E Merrill NIGHT ON THE RIVER, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, July; RAIN, Contemporary Verse, December, 
1919; THE MOUNTAIN OF SKELETONS, Contemporary 
Verse, May 

Rorty, James. THE CONQUEROR, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, September, 1919 

Roth, Samuel MOURNING, The Midland, A Magazine of the 
Middle West, July-August, 1919, SUNDOWN, The Mid- 
land, A Magazine of the Middle West, July-August, 
1919; YOHRZ, The Nation, May 8. 

Rnnnette, Mabel. To A CARDINAL, Contemporary Verse, 

S , T. J. AN ANSWER, TA* Catholic World, August, 1919. 

Sabel, Marx 6. AFTERNOON ON THE ST JOHN'S, Contemporary 
Verse, July, APPEARANCES, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, October, 1919; INVIOLATE, Contemporary Verse, 


February, PASSING LOVE, Contemporary Verse, Febru- 
ary; REFUTATION, Contemporary Verse. February, 
Contemporary Verge, February; THE PROPHECY, Con- 
temporary Verse, February 

Sandburg, Carl. BAS-RELIEF, Poetry, A Magazine of Verge, 
February; BROKEN-FACE GARGOYLES, The Dial, March; 
EVENING WATERFALL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
WIND, The New Republic, July 21; HATS, The Dial, 
March; JAZZ F \NTASI \, The Dial, March; LOSERS, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February; XiGHT-Mo% z- 
MENT NEW YORK, Poetry, A Magazine of Verge, 
February; PENNSYHANIA, The Dial, March; PEOPLE 
WHO MUST, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte* February; 
SEV-WASH, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February; 
SMOKE AND STEEL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
February; THE L*.w S vrs, Poetry, A Magazine of Verre, 
February, THE LAWYERS KNOW Too MUCH, The Dial, 
Nation, May 15 

Sapir, Edward FRENCH-CAXADH.X FOLK-SONGS, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, July; GOD, Contemporary Verse, 
March; HELEN OF TROY, The \ew Republic, March 10; 
SHEPHERDESS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; 
THE HARVEST, The Nation, June 19, THE KING OF 
of Verse, July; THE PRINCE OF OBANGE, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, July; WHITE AS Sxow, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, July 

Sangster, Jr , Margaret E THE SACRIFICE, Senbner's Maga- 
zine, December, 1919. 

A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919; CITIES, Nature 
Study Renev, December, 1919, GOD is AT THE ANVIL, 
The Farm Journal, February; LITTLE CVRIBOU \TAKTO 
BIG TALK, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 
The Stratford Jovrnal, August, 1919; THE GREAT 
DIVIDE, The Argosy, May 24, THE LOOK, American 
Forestry, May 

BRATION), The New Republic, April 28; FIRST NIGHT: 
RICHARD in, The New Republic, March 17. 

Schauffler, Robert Haven. A SOUL REMEMBERS, Contemporary 
Verse, January; DIVERS, The Outlook, June 9 

Scollard, Clinton. AN EPISTLE TO ALEXANDER POPE, Harper's 
Magazine, May 

Scott, Evelyn. AFTER YOUTH, The Dial, January; 


Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919, 
DEVIL'S CR\DLE, The Dial, January, FE\R, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919, IMMOR- 
The Dial, January, LITTLE PIGS, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, November, 1919, MAIL ON THE RANCH, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919; 
The Dial, January, NIGHT, The Dial, January, RAINY 
SEASON, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 
1919; SHIP MASTS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verae, 
November, 1919, THE CITT AT MIDNIGHT, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, November, 1919; THE DEATH OP 
COLUMBINE, The Dial, January, THE RED CROSS, The 
Dial, January; THE SILLY EWE, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, November, 1919, THE STORM, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, November, 1919, THE VAMPIRE 
BAT, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919, 
THE YEVR. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 
1919; TROPIC MOON, The Dial, January, TROPICAL 
FLOWERS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 
1919, TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, November, 1919, WINTER MOON, The Dial, 

Seiffert, Marjone Allen CTTHAERA AND THE LEAVES, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June, CYTHAERA AND THE 
SONG, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June; CYTHAERA 
AND THE WORM, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919; MAURA, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919; NOVEMBER, 
Contemporary Verse, November, 1919, RESURRECTION, 
Contemporary Verse, January; THE GIVER, Contemporary 
Verse, January, To AN ABSENT CHILD, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919, Two DESIGNS, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, October, 1919 

Shanafelt, Clara A DEATH, The New Republic, April 7, 
A DYNAMIC PERSONALITY, The New Republic, April 28, 
MAJOR, The New Republic, February 18. 

Shepard, Odell METEMPSYCHOSIS, Contemporary Verse, 
November, 1919. 

Shelton, R. V. A. CITY RAIN, The New Republic, June 9. 

Shore, Viola Brothers BROWN ARMS, Ainslet's Magazine, 
August, 1919. 

Sin, Louise Morgan SONG IK SPRING, Harper's Magazine, 

Simpson, William E. BURDENS, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, January, DANCE OF THE DTJBT WITCHES, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, January; DESERTED, Poetry, A 


Magazine of Verse, January; GHOSTS, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, January; GB*.ND CA.NYON, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, January; HOPI M \IDEN, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, January; HOMESICK SONO, Poetry -, 
A Magazine of Verse, January; Hopi-TttH, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, January; No\ EMBER, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verte, January, PITT NOT, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, January, SHM>OW FACES, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, January; THE NEW DAT, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, January; THE FOG GHOST, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January, THE NOHTH 
WOODS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January. 

Simmons, Laura. AFFIRMATION, The Catholic World, January 

Skeen, Ruth Loomis MABCH, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

Slater, Mary White BAIN, Contemporary Verse, March. 

Slyke, Berenice Van THE CIRCLE, Contemporary Verse, 

Smertenko, J. J HTOTER'S MONOTONE, The Nation, August 
16, 1919 

Smith, Clark Ashton IN NOVEMBER, Ainslee's Magazine, 
December, 1919, REQUIESCVT IN PACE, The Midland, 
A Magazine of the- Middle West, May. 

Smith, Lewis Worthington. A VASE FEOM NIPPON, Con- 
temporary Verse, January, ROOFS* Contemporary 
Verse, January, S \LOME, Contemporary Verse, Septem- 
ber, 1919. 

Smith, Mrs L Worthington THE SPOILS, The Stratford 
Journal, August, 1919 

Smith, Marion Couthouy. Is A CEMETEKT, The Outlook, 
February 18. 

Smith, Nora Archibald MOVING PICTURES, The Stratford 
Journal, October-December, 1919 

Snow, Charles Wilbert. OLAP, The Nation, February 7. 

Snow, Royall, A TRAGIC NOCTURNE, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919; BEACON, The Stratford 
Journal, October-December, 1919; NIGHTFALL, The 
Pagan, April-May, NIGHT-RAIN, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919. 

Solomon, M. Walter. IMAGES JAPONAISES, The Pagan, April- 

South, Ira CARIBBEAN LULLABY, Scnbncr's Magazine, 
November, 1919; REGRET, Scnbner's Magaxinr, Novem- 
ber, 1919; THE JOKE, Scnbner'f Magazine, November, 
1919; UNCERTAINTY, SenJbnefs Magazine, November, 
1919; VALE, Scnbner's Magazine, November, 1919; 
VICTORY, Scnbner's Magazine, November, 1919; 
WISDOM, Scnbner's Magazine. November, 1919 

Speight, E. S DANGER, Harper's Magazine, May. 

Speyer, Leonora. A GIFT, The Touchstone; CRICKETS AT 


DAWN, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; FIRST 
COMMUNION, Contemporary Verse, July; GOLD-FISH, 
Contemporary Verse, July, NEW MOON, Contemporary 
Verse, July, PAIN, The Freeman; SEKHMET THE LION- 
HEA.DED, Contemporary Verse, April, SKYWAY ROBBERY, 
Contemporary Verse, July; SPRING COWARDICE, Con- 
temporary Verse, April, SUDDENLY, The Century Maga- 
zine, March; THB CONFIDANT, Contemporary Verse, 
July; THE LADDER, Reedy'* Mirror; THE LAST MORN- 
A Magazine of Verse, July; THE SQUALL, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, July; THE WORKINGMAN (FROM THE 
GERMAN OF RICHARD DEHMEL), The Nation, July 19, 

Spdler, Robert E THE MOMENT, Contemporary Verse, March, 
THE ROAD, Contemporary Verse, March 

Spofford, Harriet Prescott C^DWALLADER, Harper's Maga- 
zine, January 

Start, Virginia HUNGER, Contemporary Verse, November, 

Stanton, Stephen Bemen LINCOLN MEMORIAL, Scnbner's 
Magazine, October 

Starbuck, Victor HOME-COMING, Harper's Magazine, Decem- 
ber, 1919; RESURRECTION, Harper's Magazine, May 

Stark, Anne Campbell To ALICE, The Detroit Sunday News, 

Stern, Benjamin NEW-BORN BABE, Contemporary Verse, 
November, 1919. 

Sterling, George AFTERNOON, Ainslee's Magazine, May; 
AUTUMNAL LOVE, Ainslee's Magazine, September, 1919, 
Ainslee's Magazine, December, 1919 

Stetson, Marjone Muir NOVEMBER, The Pagan, April- 

Stevens, Wallace ANECDOTE OF THE J\B, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, October, 1919; BANI.L SOJOURN, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, October, 1919, COLLOQUY WITH A 
POLISH AUNT, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 
A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919; FABLIAU OF 
FLORIDA, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919, 
zine of Verse, October, 1919, OF THE SURFACE OF 
THINGS, Poetry, A Magazine of Perse, October, 1919; 
PETEE PARASOL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 
1919; PLOUGHING ON SUNDAY, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verte, October, 1919, THE WEEPING BURGHER, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919, THE CURTAINS 
Magazine of Verte October, 1919; THE PALTRY NUDE 


STARTS ox A SPRIXG VOYAGE, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, October, 1918, THE PH.CE OP THE SOLITAIRES, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919, THE IXDIGO 
GLASS IN THE GHASB, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
October, 1919 

temporary Verse, June 

Stewart, Luella DESIRE, Poetry, A Magazine of Vertt, 
October, 1919 

Stockbridge, Dorothy, ENTREATY, Ainslee^ Magazine, 

Stockett, M Letitia DISCOVERT, Contemporary Verte, June, 
POMEGRANATES, Contemporary Verse, September, 1919; 
WEDDIXG SONG, Contemporary Verse, June. 

Stork, Charles "Wharton THE FIXAL GIFT, Ainslee's Maga- 
zine, December, 1919, BEACTT, The Forum 

Strobel, Marion ANTICIPATION, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, March, Exxm, Poetry, A Maqaxine of Verse, 
March, HANDS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, iLtreh, 
LET ME PLAT NET, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
March; SPRING DAT, Poetry, A Magasine of Verse, 
March; THE L\ST RITUAL, Poetry, A Magasine of 
Verse, March, Two SONXETS, Poetry, A Magasine of 
Verse, March 

Strong, Katharine BOBOLINKS, Contemporary Verse, June 

Tagore, Rabindranath. LOVE LYRICS, Translated from the 
Original Bengali by Basaaata Koomar Roy. The 
Stratford Journal, October-December, 1919. 

Taggard, Genevieve Ax HOUR ox A HILL, Harper's Maga- 
zine, December. 1919; FROM THE SEA, Suggested by 
a Hawaiian legend, Poetry, A Magasine of Verte, June. 

Tanaquil, Paul. MOOXDOWX, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

Taylor, Frances Beatrice. "MT GUESTS," Contemporary 
Verse, January 

Teasdale, Sara. COMPENSVTIOX, The Bookman, April, DAT 
AND NIGHT, Senbner's Magazine, December, 1919; 
"I KNOW THE STABS," Harper's Magasine, August, 
1919; "I THOUGHT OF You," The Bookman* March, 
IP DEATH Is KIND, The Century Magasine, March; 
IT Is NOT A WORD, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
September, 1919; JUXE NIGHT, The Bookman, March; 
"LIKE BARLET BEXDIXG," The Century Magasine, 
March; LOVELY CHAXCE, Harper's Magasine, May; 
MT HEART Is HEAVT, Poetry, A Magasine of Verse, 
September, 1919; "On DAT OP FIRB AXD Sux," The 
Bookman, March; SOKG, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
September, 1919; SPRING TORHEXTS, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, September, 1919; THJJ UXCHANGIXG, 


The Ceniury Magazine, March; THE VOICE, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, September, 1919, THOUGHTS, 
The Century Magazine, November, 1919; WHAT Do I 
CASE? Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1919, 
WHEN DEVTH is OVEB, The Bookman, March. 

Thomas, Edith M "I DREADED TO BE PITIED," Senbner't 
Magazine, June 

Thomson, O. R. Howard. PORTBAIT OP A MAK, IN MEM- 
THE PROCESSION, Contemporary Verse, October, 1919 

Titus, Ira MY FLOWER, The Wayfarer. 

Tompkms, Eufina C MIRAGE, Poetry, A Magazine of Verge, 

Torrence, Ridgely THE APPLES, The Nation, January 3 

Towne, Charles Hanson A BALLAD OF THE CIRCUS, The 
Century Magazine, April, CAROUSE, The Century 
Magazine, October, 1919 

Trapnell, Edna Valentine INLAND, Contemporary Verse, 
March, THE NET, Contemporary Verse, March. 

Treadwell, Sara. PAYMENT, Contemporary Verse, June. 

Trimble, Chandler. RUTH, The Midland, A Magazine of the 
Middle West, July-August, 1919 

Trombly, Albert Edmund. AN AFTERWORD, Contemporary 
Verse, March, ASCETIC, The Stratford Journal, October- 
December, 1919, BABY-TONGUE, Contemporary Verse, 
OLD FBENCH, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July; 
To MY SON, Contemporary Verse, September, 1919; A 
PINE SQUIRREL The Texas Renew, April, MRS. NEIGH- 
BOR, The Texas Renew, April, ORCHESTRAL, The Texas 
Review, April, SLEEPYHEAD, The Texas Renew, April, 
SOARING AND GROVELLING, The Texas Renew, April; 
SMOKE, The Texas Review, April; TABLE WAITRESS, 
The Texas Renew, April; THE RANCHMAN, The Texas 
Renew, April 

Troth, John T. THE ULTIMATE TRYST, Contemporary Verse, 

Troy, Daniel W> As THE BAND GOES BY, Contemporary Verse, 

Turbyfill, Mark A SONG OF GIVERS AND TAKERS, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919; CHICAGO, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919; END OF SUMMER, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919, JOURNEY, 
Poetry, A Maganne of Verse, October, 1919. 

Trusler, Harry Raymond You, The Woman 1 s World, Decem- 
ber, 1919 

Tynan, Katharine SONG OF GOING, The Catholic World, 

Tytus, Grace S H THE VISION, Harper's Magastne, Novem- 
ber, 1919. 

Unna, Sarah. COMPLETION, Contemporary Verte, February; 
THE VICTORS, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, December, 

Untermeyer, Louis BEREAVED, Scnbner't Magazine, Febru- 
ary, MATINEE, Tke Did, February, MOZABT, The Yale 
The Yale Review, July; RETROSPECT, The Century 
Magazine, December, 1919, WVLLS AGUNST EDEN, 
Tke New Republic, July 14; WITH A VOLUME op HEINE, 
The New Republic 

Updegraff, Allan THE DAILY ROUND, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verte, February. 

Upper, Joseph QUESTIONNAIRE, Contemporary Verte, Decem- 
ber, 1919. 

Van Rensselaer, Mrs Schuyler OF~SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS 
TO "MR W H," The Sonnet, September-October, 

Vannah, Kate. His PROPHECY, Contemporary Verte, Sep- 
tember, 1919. 

Vedder, Miriam YESTERDAY I TOLD THE TRUTH, Contem- 
porary Verse, March. 

Vines, Sherard THE BULL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, May. 

Wagenhals, Margaret Hamilton. THE Music Box, Contem- 
porary Verse, December, 1919. 

Wagstaff, Blanche Shoemaker GIFT, Aintlee't Magazine, 

Waldron, Marion Patton. YOUR Soui* IN MY Two HANDS, 
The Century Magazine, March. 

Waley, Arthur EAHLY SNOW, A No PLAY, Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verte, March. 

Walton, Eda Lou FROM A PROMONTORY, Poetry, A Maga- 
snne of Verte, May; I MET THREE LOVERS, Poetry, 
A Magazine of Verte, May; INDIAN LOVE SONGS, 
Contemporary Verte, February; INDIAN PRAYER, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, May, MORNING AND 
NIGHT, Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, May; NAVAJO 
SONGS, The Nation, April 17, ONE SPRING, Poetry, A 
Magasme of Verse, May; PBAYEB FOB HARVEST, 
Contemporary Verte, February; STRENGTH, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verte, May. 

Warvelle, Erne Bangs. WINTER FLOWERS, Contemporary 
Verte, January 

Watson, Virginia THE GALLEONS, Harper't Magaxme, 



1918, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919; 
SISTER EUPHROSYNB, Contemporary Verse, March. 

Weaver, John V A DRUG STOBE, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, February, NOCTTTBNB, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, February 

Webster, Louise AT CROSS-ROADS, Contemporary Verse, 
November, 1919, CLAIBAUDIENT, Contemporary Verse, 
November, 1919, DAWN, Contemporary Verse, Novem- 
ber, 1919. 

Welles, Winifred A CHILD TO HER MOTHER, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919, DRIFTWOOD, Contemporary 
Verse, February, EXILE, The North American Renew, 
May; GESTURE, The North American Review, Septem- 
ber, 1919, RESEMBLANCE, Contemporary Verse, October, 
1919; SECOND GROWTH, Harper's Magazine, January, 
Renew, September, 1919 

Magazine, October, 1919 

Wentworth, C. ANTE AMOSEM, Contemporary Verse, Septem- 
ber, 1919 

Wharton, Edith. MISTRAL IN THE MAQUIS, The Yale 
Renew, January, LYRICAL EPIGRAMS, The Yale Review, 
January; THE YOUNG DEAD, The Yale Review, Jan- 

Wheelock, John Hall HUMAN, Scribner's Magazine, August, 
1919; STORM AND SUN, Reddy't Mirror, August, 1919; 
MY LONELY ONE, The Freeman, July 

Whicher, George Meason AN EPISTLE TO STEPHEN, Scnb- 
ner's Magazine, March; FOR THE EIGHTH OF DECEMBER 
(THE BIRTHDAY OP HORACE), The Nation, Dec. 6, 1919 

White, Viola C. LIBERATED, The Stratford Journal, August, 

Whitford, Robert Calvin. THE SEEKER, The Texas Review, 
October, 1919 

Widdemer, Margaret OLD Lots, Atnslee's Magazine, March, 
11, 1919 

Wilde, Georgia THE ORE TRAIN, Contemporary Verse, 
November, 1919 

Wilkinson, Florence HER DEATH, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April, SPEECH, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
April, THE HOPS OF HEAVEN, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April. 

Wilkinson, Marguerite AN OATH IN APRIL, Ainslee's Maga- 
zine, March; COLORS, Contemporary Verse, February; 
FOOD, Contemporary Verse, February; THIS SHALL 
BE THE BOND, Scribner's Magazine, January; TREKS, 
Contemporary Verse, February, WEATHER, Contem- 
porary Verse, February 


Willcox, Charles. A GARDEN IN WINTEB, Contemporary 
Verge, February. 

Williams, Oscar C. AT A CABARET, The Stratford Journal, 
October-December, 1919, DBEAMS, Contemporary Verge, 
October 1919; O LITTLE WAIF, Contemporary Verse, 
October 1919, RUMINATIONS, The Nation, Jan. 24 

MEDITATES), The Yale Renew, July. 

Williamson, William Hay To MT VALENTINE, The Woman's 
World, February 

Wilson, Arden M "TiBED BUSINESS MEN," Contemporary 
Verse, June. 

Wilson, Charlotte VEILED MOONLIGHT, Scribntr't Magactne 
December, 1919 

Wilson, Jr , Edmund GLUCE; IN NEW YORK, The 2feic 
Republic, Mar 81 

Wilson, John French. A SONG AT ARMAGEDDON, JUNE 2, 
1917, Contemporary Verse, July; BLUE MOONLIGHT, 
Contemporary Verge, July; MOONLIGHT, Contemporary 
Verse, July; BAIN, Contemporary Verse, July; SONNET, 
Contemporary Verse, July; THE CAPTIVE, Contemporary 
Verge, July; WINTER AFTERNOON, Contemporary 
Verse, July. 

Winke, Charles H THE FOREST FIRES, American Poetry 
Magazine* September, 1919. 

PALMER), The New Republic, June 2. 

Winters, A. Y. CONCERNING BLAKE, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, September, 1919; LITTLE RIBBIT, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, September, 1919; MONTEZCMA, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 1919, ON 
THE MESA, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, September, 
1919; THE OLD WEEP GENTLT, Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, September, 1919, WILD HORSES, Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, September, 1919. 

Wister, Mary Channing AFTER THE CONGEST, Contemporary 
Verse, October, 1919. 

Wright, Harold Holston. A LETTER, Porfry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April, KINSHIP, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
April; PASTEL, Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April 

Wycfc, William van SONNET, Ainslee's Magazine, October, 

Wylie, Elinor. "LES LATJBIEB SONT COUPES," Contemporary 
Verse, May 

Yeats, William Butler. A PBATEB FOB MT DAUGHTER, 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, November, 1919. 

Zaturensky, Marys A GHETTO POET. The New Republic, 
June 80, A RUSSIAN E \STEB, Poetry, A Maganne of 


Verse, April, A SONG op PARTING, Aznslee's Magazine, 
November, 1919, INVOCATION Contemporary Verse, 
September, 1919 RUSSIAN PE^JSVNTS, Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, April, THE POTJB HORSEMEN, 
Contemporary Verse, September, 1919. 





Aiken, Conrad Two Views of Contemporary Poetry. The 

Yde Renew, January 
Body and Raiment (Review of Mrs. Tietjens* book Poetry, 

A Magazine of Verse* February 
Idiosyncrasy and Tradition (Poems of Francis Led*idge). 

The Dial, March 
Two Views of Contemporary Poetry. The Yale Renew, 

Adams, Franklin P Next to Reading Matter. The Nete 

Republic, Mar 24 
Aldington, Richard A London Letter (on Poets and Poetry). 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January 
A Book for Literary Philosophers (Ezra Pound) Poetry, 

A Magazine of Verse, July 
Campion's "Observations." Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

English and American. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

Recent French Poetry Poetry, A Magazine of Vene, 

October, 1919 
Alexander, Hartley Burr. The Poetry of the American 

Indian. The. Nation, Dec. IS, 1919. 
Ambram, Beulah B. Heine and the Germans The North 

American Renew, January 
Anderson, John Davis In Praise of the Greatness of Thomas 

Hardy. The Boston Transcript, June 2 
Anon Masefield's Yarn of the Sea ("Enslaved"). The 

New York Times Renew of Boolct, July 11. 
Hilda Conkling. The Christian Science Monitor, Jane SO. 
The Poets and the Peace. The Nation, Oct 4, 1919. 
A Unique Collection of Chinese Verse The N Y Time* 

Book Renew, Aug. 24, 1919. 

Young America and Milton. Scnbner't Magazine, June. 
Five Recent Volumes of Verse (Ballads of Old New York, 

Golden Whales of California, Songs of the Cattle Trail 


and Cow Camp, Songs of Seeking and Finding, Hail, 
Man) The Outlook, Apr 21 

A Belated Review (Don Marquis) The Outlook, Feb 18 

Christopher Morley The Outlool, Feb 4 

A Poet's Birthday (Edwin Arlington Robinson) The 
OuOoole, Dec 24, 1919 

A Triangle of Poets, (Masefield, Amy Lowell, John Drink- 
water) The Outlook, Dec S, 1919. 

The New Era in American Poetry The Outlook, Aug 
27, 1919 

Sapling's Latest Word. The Outlook, Sept 24, 1919 

Beers, Henry A The Singer of the Old Swimmin' Hole 

(James Whitcomb Riley) The Yale Review, January 
Benei, William Rose Importry and Exportry Harper's 

Magazine, January. 
Blackwell, Alice Stone A Spanish-American Poet The 

Stratford Journal, August, 1919 
Black, John Walt Whitman Fiction-Writer and Poets' 

Friend The Bookman, April 
1940: The Minor Poets' Centenary Year The Bookman, 


Blum, W G. Rimbaud as Magician The Dial, June 
Bunker, John A New English Poet The Bookman, January. 
Burr, Amelia Josephine. The Expanded Interest in Poetry 

September, 1919. 
Butler, Ellis Parker A New Poet of Nature The Bookman, 


Bodenheim, Maxwell Modern Poetry. The Dial, January 
The Poetry Quibble The North American Renew, Novem- 
ber, 1919 
Bradford, Gamaliel, Portrait of Sidney Lamer The North 

American Review, June 
Braithwaite, William Stanley. The Lyric Quality of Robert 

Hillyer. The Boston Transcript, June 5 
A Poetical Voice from the Wilderness. The Boston Tran- 
script, Mar 6 

A Year-Round Treasury of Child Verse (Annette's Wynne's 
"For Days and Days") The Boston Transcript, Oct. 
18, 1919 
The Personality of Cecil Roberts The Boston Transcript, 

Jan 24. 
A Lyrical Voice from Missouri (George O'Neil) The 

Boston Transcript, Feb 21 

The Arthurian Legend in Poetry (E A Robinson's "Lance- 
lot"). The Boston Transcript, June 12. 
A Poet with the Harvard Hall Mark (Ernest Benshimol) 

The Bottom. Transcript, June 19 

The Poetic Advance of Francis Carlin The Boston Tran- 
script, May 22. 


The Romantic Lore of the Red Man (Lew Sarett's "Many, 

Many Moons") The Boston Transcript, May 8 
The Golden Whales of California ^Vachel Lindsay). The 

Boston Transcript, Apr 17. 
The Art of a Young American Poet (Winifred Welles). 

The Boston Transcript, Apr. S 
Siegfried Sassoon's Grim Irony. The Boston Transcrijrt, 

Apr 24 
A Spiritual Biography (Jacopone da Todi Poet and 

Mystic 1228-1306) The Boston Transcript, March IS 
A Bay for E. A Robinson The Brooklyn Eagle, Mar 27. 

Carnevah, Emanuel Irritation (A Pounding of Pound). 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, January 
Chew, Samuel C. A Poet Turns Critic (Sir Henry Xew bolt's 

"A New Study of English Poetry") The Yale Renew, 

Cloyd, Eunice Caliban's Love- Making (review of Aiken's 

"Scepticism") Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February. 
Cline, Leonard Lanson. Three Anthologies of Modern Verse. 

The Detroit Sunday Neics, Apr 18 
Courtney, Mrs. W S Lesser Literary Lights < Felicia Hemans, 

Caroline Bowles and Charlotte Smithy Tie North 

American Rerieic, June 
Carret, M. Baudelaire Translated. The New Republic, 

June 9 
Colum, Padraic. Amy Lowell and the Poetry of Pictures. 

The New Republic, July 7 

New English Poets. The New Republic, July 21. 
Three Younger Poets (Francis Ledwidge, George O'Xeil, 

Scudder Middleton). The JY>ir Republic, Apr. 7. 

D.,C V Tragedy in Camelot(E. A Robinson's "Lancelot"). 

The Nation, May 8 
De Casseres, Benjamin. The Poems of Herbert French. 

The Bookman, March; Van Nopper, Homer of Our Fleet, 

The Bookman, September, 1919. 
Deutsch, Babette. Eastern Lights ('* Colored Stars, Versions 

of Fifty Asiatic Poems," "Black Marigolds," by E. 

Powys Mathers). The Dial, March. 
Free Verse and Certain Strictures The Bookman, January. 
A New Light on Lancelot (E A Robinson). Poetry, A 

Magazine of Verse, July 
Delgado, Frederick Pearce Louis Bertrsnd, A Study in 

Artistic Personality The North A nencan Renew, June. 
Drinfcwater, John The Full Circle of Masefield's Art The 

Yale Renew, April. 
Dunn, Esther Cloudman. Longfellow the Teacher. Tha North 

American Renew, February. 

"E A *' A Milestone for America (Percy MacKaye). 

The North American Renew, January 
Ervine, St. John W B Yeats II (Some Impressions of 

My Elders) The North American Renew, March 
Yeats (Some Impressions of My Elders). The North 

American Review, January 
John Drinkwater. The North American Renew, November. 

Elliott, G R. The Neighborlmess of Robert ~&co&t. The Nation, 

Dec. 6, 1919. 

Fletcher, John Gould. Thomas Hardy's Poetry, An American 

View Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, April 
The Structure of Chinese Poetry (Arthur Waley's transla- 
tions from the Chinese) The Dial, February. 

Fuller, Henry B The American Image Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, March 

Freer, Agnes. Camnuerts Again. Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, September, 1919 

Garrison, Theodosia Ella Wheeler Wdcoac, The Woman 

The Bookman, January. 
Gammans, Harold W Rhythmus and the Writer. The 

Writer's Monthly, January. 
Gorman, Herbert S The Various Bynner. The New York 

Evening Post Book Renew (Poetry Number), June 19 
Georgians These, Not Cavaliers (Graves, Lawrence, Some 

Soldier Poets). The New York Times Bool. Renew, July 4. 
A Few Remarks About Newspaper Verse. The Writer's 

Monthly, November, 1919 
Edwin Arlington Robinson, and a Talk With Him N Y. 

Sun Books and Book World, Jan 4 
Goldring, Douglas. James Elroy Flecker (An Appreciation 

and Some Personal Memories). The Dial, May 
Gibbs, A. Hamilton. Poets of the New Patriotism. The New 

Republic, Mar. 17 
Greene, Constance Murray. Poetry Books Manifold The 

Bookman, February. 

Hackett, Francis. Reynard the Fox (John Masefield) The 
New Republic, Jan 7. 

Hartley, Marsden The Business of Poetry. Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, December, 1919 

Harper, George McLean French Feeling in War Poetry. 
The Yale Review, January 

Henderson, Alice Corbin. A Note on Primitive Poetry Poetry, 

A Magazine of Verse, September, 1919. 
Science and Art Again. Poetry, A Magasnne of Verse, 


An Irish Harp (Nonreys Jephson O' Conor). Poetry, A 

Magazine of Verse, September, 1919. 
Hubbell, J B. Wordsworth, Imsgist The New Yorl Evening 

Post Book Renew (Poetry ffumbtr), June 19 
Hughes, Helen Sard Making Heaven Safe for Democracy, 

(An interesting essay on political and patriotic h.m- 

nology ) The Died, January. 

Jenckes, Jr , E. N Limitations of Free Verse, The Wnter's 
Monthly, February. 

K., A. Comedy Over Tragedy (Marjorie A. Seiffert). Poetry, 

A Magazine of Yerte, July 
Kelly, Mus D , F J. Shakespeare and the Art of Music 

The Catholic World, January 
Kreymborg, Alfred Touring America on Pegasus Poetry, 

A Magazine of Verse, May. 

Lawrence, D. H The Poetry of the Present. The AV^ I'orfc 
Evening Post Boo 1 : Renew (Poetry Number), June 19. 

Lappin, Henry A Poetry, Verse, and Worse The Bookman, 


A Isew American Poet. The Bookman, November-Decem- 
ber, 1919. 

Lewisohn, Ludwig Richard Dehmel The Nation, Mar 6. 

Lowell, Amy Mr. Lindsay's Latest Venture The Xeie York 
Times Book Renew, May 18 

Loving, Pierre The Tragedy of Horace Traubel The AVto 
York Evening Post Book Renew (Poetry Xumber), June 19. 

Long, Hamel. Mr Bynner's Philosophy of Love. Poetry, A 
Maqazine of Verte, February. 

L , a Charles Sorley (Letters). The Neic Republic, July 81. 

MacBeath, Francis J With Poets New and Old. The Writer's 

Monthly, September-October, 1919 
McCourtie, William B. If I Were a Young Poet The Writer** 

Monthly, December, 1919. 
Marks, Jeannette, Swinburne: A Study in Pathology The 

Yale Renew, January. 
Maynard, Theodore The Poetry of Charles Williams. The 

North American Renew, September, 1919 
The Chesterbelloc The Catholic World, November- 
December, 1919, January-February. 
Monahan, Michael. Edwin Markham s Poetry, The Stratford 

Journal, September, 1919. 
Monroe, Harriet. Two Child Poets (Hilda Conkling, and 

Katharine BuQ). Poetry, A Magazine of Verte, July. 
Dr. Chubb on the Platform (Comments on Dr. Paul Shorey 

lecture on poets and poetry). Poetry ; A Magazine of 

Vene, July. 


What Next' (Reflections on "Poetry" Seventh Birthday). 
Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, October, 1919 

Waley's Translations from the Chinese Poetry, A Maya- 
sine of ferae, March 

Those We Refuse (an editor's confession concerning verse- 
rejections) Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March 

Mr Yeats and the Poetic Drama Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, April 

Mr. Robinson's Jubilee (on the occasion of Edtvin Arlington 
Robinson's fiftieth birthday) Poetry, A Magazine of 
Verse, February 

Miss Cromwell's Poems Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 

King George's Poets Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May 

In the Old Fashion (Walter de la Mare) Poetry, A Magazine 
of Verse, September, 1919 

Celestial Jazz (Mr. Lindsay's. "Golden Whales of Cali- 
fornia") Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, May 

A Scientist's Challenge. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, 
December, 1919. 

A Lincoln Primer (Drmkwater's "Lincoln") Poetry, A 
Magazine of Verse, December, 1919 

A Lover of Earth (Mr. Wheelock's "Dust and Light"). 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, March 
Morley, Christopher Walter de la Mare on Rupert Brooke 

The Bookman, April. 

Munsterberg, Margarete Santayana The Nation, July 5, 

Francis Thompson, A Poet's Poet The Catholic World, 
September, 1919. 

Netzer, A. May. The Poetry of Ernest Dowson The Texas 

Renew, April 
Neff, Marietta The Place of Henley The North American 

Review, April 
Nicholl, Louise Townsend. Three Months of Poetry The 

New York Evening Post Book Review, (Poetry Number), 

June 19. 

Oppenheim, James. One of Our Sun-Gods (Walt Whitman) 

The Dial, May 

Poetry Our First National Art. The Dial, February 
O'Hagan, Thomas. French-Canadian Poets and Poetry. 

The Catholic World, December, 1919 

Passes, John Dos Antonio Machado Poet of Castile The 

Dial, June 
Peck, H. W. The Criticism of Poetry. Tht Mid-West Quarterly, 



Powys, John Cowper The Actual Walt Whitman The 
New York Evening Post Book Review (Poetry Number) 
June 19 

Purdie, Albert B Macbeth A Study in Sm The Catholic 
World, November, 1919 

Quinn, Arthur Hobson Pilgrim and Puritan in Literature 
Scnbner's Magazine, May. 

Reilly, Ph D. Joseph J. A Keltic Poe (Fits-James O'Brien). 

The Catholic World, March 
Eidge, Lola Covered Roads (Study of Robert Frost) The 

New Republic, June 28. 
Rueffner, Louise M. The Poet and the City A Characteristic 

Tendency of the Modern Muse The New York Evening 

Post Book Renew (Poetry Number), June 19. 
Roosevelt, Kermit. Edwin Arlington Robinson. Scnbner't 

Magazine, December, 1919 

R , O Gladys Cromwell's Poems The New Republic, Mar. 10 
Roth, Samuel Edwin Arlington Robinson The Bookman, 

Royster, James Finch. Mr. Alfred Xoyes and the Literary 

Rebels The Texas Renew, October, 1919 

S , M. A The Floating World (review of Miss Lowell's latest 

book). Poetry, A Magazine of Terse, March 
Rare Air (G. P. Warren) Poetry, A Magazine of Vtr*c, 

Sapir, Edward. Note on French-Canadian Folt-Songs 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, July 
Schauffier, Margaret Widdemer In the Treatment of Poets 

The Bookman, November-December, 1919. 
Scott, Evelyn. Emilw de Menezes (Brazilian Poet). Poetry, 

A Magazine of Verse, April 
Seiffert, Marjorie Allen. Sjtarved Rock (E. L Masters). 

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June 
Soldier and Lover (Richard Aldington). Poetry, A Magazine 

of Verte, September, 1919. 
Shanks, Edward An English Lyrist (J C Squire). The Diol^ 

Shay, Frank Whitman's Publishers The New York Evening 

Post Book Renew, (Poetry Number), June 19 
Sinclair, May. The Reputation of Ezra Pound The North 

American Renew, May. 

Smith, Geddes Reynard the Fox The New Republic, Jan. 7. 
Strobd, Marion. Out of the Den (Siegfried Sassoon). Portry, 

A Magazine of Verse, June 

Perilous Leaping. Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, June 
Stanton, Theodore French War Poetry. The Mid-West 

Quarterly, January. 


Stork, Charles Wharton Review of Magazine Verse of 

Year Philadelphia Public Ledger, Dec 28, 1919. 
Recent Verse, The Yale Review, April 
Symons, Arthur Baudelaire and His Letters. The North 

American Review, September, 1919 

A Jester with Genius (Oscar Wilde) The Bookman, April 
Coventry Patmore The North American Renew, February. 
Thomas Hardy The Dial, January 

Taketomo, Torao American Imitations of Japanese Poetry. 

The Nation, Jan 17. 
Tinker, Chauncey B. British Poetry Under Stress of War. 

The Yale Renew, July 

Swinburne Once More. The Yale Renew, January 
Trombly, Albert Edmund. Rossetti Studies The Lyric 

The South Atlantic Quarterly, October, 1919 
Trueblood, Charles K Skepticism as Illumination, (Aiken's 

''Scepticisms. Notes on Contemporary Poetry") The 

Dial, April 

Untenneyer, Louis The Hesitant Heart (by Winifred Welles) 

The New Republic, June 30. 

A Note on the Poetry of Love The New RepvUic, May 26 
Woodrovian Poetry, 1922-1928. The New Republic, Dec. 

24, 1919. 

"Sweetness and Light " The Dial, April 
The Lyric Line (John Hall Wheelock*s "Dust and Light") 

The Bookman, March 
Af ter math (Picture Show, by S Sassoon). The New Republic 

Mar 3. 

Van Dyke, Henry. Poems of Robert Underwood Johnson. 
The Boston Transcript, Feb 14 

Vanderpyl, Fritz R. Art and Eiffel Towers. Poetry, A Maga- 
zine of Verse, May. 

Wyatt, Edith Whitman and Anne Gdchrist. The North 

American Renew, September, 1919. 
Kipling Today Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, February. 
Wbieher, George F. Edward Thomas The Yale Renew, April 
Wilkinson, Marguerite. Poetry of Last Year and Today 
Mar. 28. 


DURING 1919-1920 

Adams, Franklin P. Something Else Again, Doubleday, Page 

and Co 

Alien, William Frederick. Monographs, The Four Seas Co. 
Andrews, John. Editor- The Yale Book of Student Verse. 

With an Introduction by Charlton M. Lewis Yale 

University Press. 
Babcock, William H Legends of the JVew World Richard G. 

Bailey, John. A Day-Boole of Waiter Satage Landor. Oxford 

University Press. 
Barker, Helen Granville Songs in Citie* and Garden* G. P. 

Putman's Sons. 
Barney, Danforth. Chords from Attnreo With a Foreword by 

Lawrence Mason John Lane Co 

Barr, Amelia E. Song* in the Common Chord. With an Intro- 
duction by Joseph C Lincoln. D. Appleton and Co. 
Barrett, Wilton Agnew Song* from the Journey George H. 

Doran Co. 
Benet, Stephen Vincent Editor: The Yale Book of Student 

Verse. With an Introduction by Charlton M Lewis. 

Yale University Presb 
Bennet, Raine. After the Day. A Collection of Pott-War 

Impre**ton*. With an Introduction by George Douglas. 

The Stratford Co. 
Bennett, Marguerite Hope. Prelude. The Neale Publishing 

Benshimol, Ernest. Tomorrow * Yetterday SmaH, Maynard 

and Co. 
Boni, Albert. The Modern Book of French Ter*e. In English 

Translation* by Chaucer, Francis, Thompson, Smnburne, 

Arthur Symon*, Robert Bridge*, John Payne, and other*. 

Boni and Liveright. 
Bowman, Archibald Allen. Bonnet* from a Prison Camp. John 

Lane Co. 

Brady, E. J. The House of ihe Wind*. Dodd, Mead and Co. 
Braithwaite, William Stanley. The Book of Modem Bntuk 

Verse. Small, Maynard and Co. 

Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1919 and Year Book of 
American Poetry Small, Maynard and Co 

Buck, Howard The Tempering (in Yale Series of Younger 
Poets) Yale University Press 

Blurt, Maxwell Struthers Songs and Portraits Charles 

Sinbner's Sons 
Cabot, Eliae Pumpelly Arizona, and Other Poems E P. 

Dutton and Co. 

Carhn, Francis. The Cairn of Start Henry Holt and Co 
Carter, Laura Armistead Wind and Blue Water The Corn- 
hill Co 

Chanler, Alida. Songs and Sonnets The Cornhill Co 
Claudel, Paul Three Poems of the War Translated into 

English Verse by Edward J. O'Brien. Yale University 

Clinton, Scollard War Voices and Memories Being Verses 

Written During the Years 1817-18-19 James T White Co 
Coles, Rutgers Remsen Rapid and Still Water The Stratford 

Cone, Helen Gray The Coat Without a Seam E P Dutton 

and Co 
Conklmg, Grace Hazard Wilderness Songs Henry Holt and 

Conkling, Hilda. Poems by a Little Oirl Preface by Amy 

Lowell. Frederick A Stokes Co 
Coutts, Francis. The Spacious Times, and Other Poems 

John Lane Co 
Cromwell, Gladys. Poems With an Introduction by Padraic 

Colum. The Macnullan Co 

Crowell, Joshua Freeman utdoors and In. The Four Seas Co 
Cushman, Silvia. Facts and Fancies Published by the Author 

Davidson, Gustav. Songs of Adoration New York. The 


Davies, Mary Carolyn Youth Riding The Macmillan Co 
de Acosta, Mercedes. Moods Prose Poems Moffat, Yard 

and Co. 
de la Mare, Walter. A Book of Drawings by Pameha 

Blanco, with IttustraUoe Poems by Walter de la Mare. 

J B. Lippincott Co. 

DeStein, E The Poets in Picardy, E P. Dutton and Co. 
Dougall, Lily Acadcs Ambo Longmans, Green and Co 
Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan. The Guards Came Through, and 

Other Poems. George H Doran Co 

Edwards, Arthur M. The Conversation of Kaiser William, or 
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Eddy, Ruth Basset Altar Fires The Cornhill Co 

Eliot, T S Poems Alfred A Knopf. 

Enlow, Lucile C The Heart of a Girl The Stratford Co. 

Farrar, John Chipman Forgotten Shnnes Yale Series of 

Younger Poets ) Yale University Press 
Farrar, John C Editor The Yale Book of Student Terse. With 

an Introduction by Charlton M Lewis Yale University 

Fleur-De-Lys. A Book of French Poetry Freely Translated into 

English Verse, with an Introduction and Notes by Wilfrid 

Thorley Houghton Mifflin Co 

Georgian Poetry 1918-1919 G P Putman's Sons 
Guiterman, Arthur. Battadt of Old Neic York Harper and 

Hamilton, Mary Gertrude Lights and Shadotcs The Strat- 
ford Co 

Harbert, Blanche E The Good Cheer Bool (Anthology) 
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Hawkins, Walter Everette Chords and Discords Richard G. 

Herbert, A P The Bomber Gipsy, and Other Poems Alfred 
A. Knopf 

Hillyer, Robert The Five Book* of Youth. BrentanoV 

Hollo way, John Wesley. Fromthe Desert, The Xeale Publish- 
ing Co 

Hooker, Brian A D 1919 A Commemoratite Poem Set 
to Music by Horatio Parker Yale University P^pss 

Hough, Lynn Harold Flying Over London The Abmgton 

Hughes, Adelaide Manola Diantha Got* the Primrose Way. 
Harper and Brothers. 

Hughs, Fannie May Barbee Fragments. Essays and Poems. 
Boston: Christopher Publishing House. 

Johns, Orrick Black Branches. A Book of Poems and Plays. 
New York. Pagan Publishing Co. 

Johnson, Robert Underwood Poems, 1881-1919 Yale 
University Press 

Jones, Herbert The Well of Being John Lane Co. 

Jones, Joshua Henry The Heart of the World. The Stratford 

Jordan, Clarence Lumpkin. Trench Tale*. The Neale Publish- 
ing Co. 

Keith, Henrietta Jewett. Four 0' Clocks. Minneapolis, 
Minn Augsburg Publishing House 

Keeler, Charles Sequoia Sonnets Published at the Sign of 
the Live Oak, Berkeley, Cal 

Kerr, R Watson. War Davbs Poems John Lone Co. 

Kip, A L Poem* G P Putnam's Sons. 

Kipling, Rudyard Verse, Inclusive Edition 1885-1918 Double- 
day, Page and Co 

Koopman, Harry Lyman Hespena An American National 
Poem, I-VI. The Preston, and Rounds Co., Providence, 
R I. 

Krauth, Charles Philip Ahno The Cornhill Co 

Kyger, John Fremont No-Wa-Na An Indian Tale Told in 
Verse. Chicago: Front Publishing Co 

Lanouette, Joseph Edward Jean Rivard The Cornhill Co 
Ledwidge, Francis. Complete Poems With Introductions by 

Lord Dunsany Brentano's 
Lincoln, Elliot C Rhymes of a Homesteader Honghton Mifflin 

Lindsay, Vachel. The Golden Whales of California and Other 

Rhymes in the American Language The Macmillan Co 
Lomar, John A Songs of ke Cattle Trad and Goto Camp 

(Collection). With a Foreword by William Lyon Phelps 

The Macmillan Co 
Low, Mary Cromwell The Lode Star James T White Co. 

McCloskey, George V A. Lyncs The Neale Publishing Co 
McManus, Joseph D. The Might of Manhattan New York* 

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MacKaye, Percy. Rip Van Winkle Folk-Opera in Three Acts 

Music by Reginald de Koven Alfred A. Knopf 
Mann, Dorothea Lawrance An Acreage of Lync The Corn- 

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Marsh, Elizabeth H Body and Soul The Cornhdl Co 
Masefield, John. The Everlasting Mercy and the Widow in the 

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Miles, Susan Dunch Longmans, Green and Co 
Millen, William A Songs of the Irish Revolution, and Songs of 

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Misrow, Sri Jogesh Chander Usha Songita Songs of the 

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Falamas, Kostes Life Immovable. First Part Translated 
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Poems of Tennyson. Chosen and Edited by Henry van Dyke. 
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Poems of John R Thompson Edited with a Biographical 
Introduction by John S Patton Charles Scribner's Sons. 

Pratt, Harry Noyes Hill Trails and Open Sky A Book of 
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Ftoudfoot, Andrea Hofer. Trolley Line*. Ralph Fletcher 

Pushkin, Alexander Sergyeyevich. Boris Godunot. A Drama 
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Roberta, Cecil Poems With a Preface by John Masefield. 

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Sampler, Jessie E The Coming of Peace. New York* Pub- 
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Sangster, Margaret E. Cross Roads. New York: Frank F. 


Sarett, Lew. Many Many Moons Henry Holt and Co. 
Sassoon, Siegfried Picture-Show E. P. Dutton and Co. 
Seiffert, Marjorie Allen. A Woman of Thirty, and Poems by 

Elijah Hay Alfred A Knopf. 
Seymour, W Kean. Editor. A Miscellany of British Poetry, 

1919 Harcourt, Brace and Howe. 
Shanks, Edward The Queen of China, and other Poems Alfred 

A. Knopf. 
Sharpe, Theodore, My Place in the Shade, and Various Verse* 

Richard G. Badger. 

Sheldon, Gilbert Acades Ambo Longmans, Green and Co. 
Sievekmg, Captain L. de G Dressing Govns and Give With 

an Introduction about the Verses by G. K Chesterton, 

Harcourt, Brace and Howe. 
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Steiner, Rudolph. Four Mystery Plays. 2 Vols. G. P. 

Putman's Sons 
Still, John. Poems in Captivity. John Lane Co. 

Tebbutt, A. E. Russian Lyncal Poetry. An Anthology of th 
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with Notes. E. P. Dutton and Co. 


Temple, Ana The Kneeling Camel, and Other Poems. Moffat, 

Yard and Co 
The Poems of Gilbert White. With an Introduction by Sir 

Herbert Warren The Macnullan Co 
Tucker, Allen There and Here Duffield and Co 
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Underwood, Edna Worthley Moons of Nippon Translations 

from Poets of Old Japan Ralph Fletcher Seymour 
Underwood, Pierson Editor The Yale Book of Student Verse 

With an Introduction by Charlton M Lewis Yale 

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Untermeyer, Louis Modern American Poetry (Anthology) 

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Aiken, Conrad Asphalt 53 

Aiding t on ,Hr s. Richard Islands 33 
Allen,James lane On the cattle jieoe 
Anderson, Dorothy 
Anderson .Maxwell 

Dust 93 

Pull-circle 13 

Armstrong, Hanllton F, Lines t'cr tne nourj.1 
I come singles 14 
To the deaa favorite 
of Liu Ch'e 101 
House at eveniiag 99 
Her vray i.00 

Bodenheiffler,ltaxwell Sonnet 36 

Ending 60 

Brick-lust 60 

To her 'AB.Q passes 31 
Portrait or a laoy 46 
Up Carr Creek 

Auslander , Jac ob 
Barnes ,Djuna 

Benet .William R. 

Brooke .Louisa 
Browne .Maurice 
Cleghorn, Sarah S 
Coatsworth. Elizabeth J, Gate 

Cobb , 

Crawford ,5, A. 

Davies^tary 0. 
Fletcher, John G, 
Frost ,Eob;rt 

Garnett , Louise A, 
Giltinan, Caroline 
Ginsburg , Louis 
Gorman, Herbert S. 

Griffith, William 



Elvers 81 
Wasnisgton 61 ; 
Carrying of the gnoat > 


To other Mary's 60 
Song o a Korean with 
twins 52 

Apparition 68 

Slack roc^f 1 

To S.T. 98 

KLace for a third 103 
Prodigal 10 
Alone in spring 33 
April * 3 

I can not put you 
away 33 

Lilith^Alith' 46 
I, who laughed ay 
vouth away 28 

Forest rendejsroua 31 
I ,who fade with ta 

Ha l,Hazel Three girls 58 

Walkers . _77 

Henderson,!). Mature-lover passes 96 

Hi u. limn , Car olynWr ea ths 32 

HiJJjuan.G.M. Tankers 66 

Hoffman, Hioebe Civil engineers 87 

Holden, Raymond Sugaring 17 

Holt ,f T. Piowers 19 

Jenuey,:FlorenceAchievement 44 
Jones T H.U. They that dwell in 

shadow 51 

Kemp, Ha .ry You talk of this and that & 

He did not know 96 

KreymborgjA. Dorothy ^ 47 

Lee, Agnes Old lizette on sleep 79 

Lowell ,Ant7 Gavotte in D minor 37 

irimaire , 30 

Merely statement 37 

UcCaslandjVine Circus 84 

McClusjsy,K. Oonfesaional 9 

Maries ,J. Green golden door 35 

Mas ters , Edgar. L. Be public 63 

0,my friend 113 

Middietoa % S. Song in the key of 

autumn 92 

Worker , 95 

Overhead 97 

MillsgrESt.V, Departure 35 

Inland 67 

Exiled 94 

Blegy before death 111 

Killer ,J.O, Transformation 26 

Maximilian marvelous . 74 

Mort- n, David Garden wall * 21 

Mariners .67 

O 1 Connor A. Beauty 8 

0*Ieil.Ida To a Persian manuscript 54 

Barkewood^Bose Sentinels . 16 

Garden 20 

Batters on JL.De 0, Souvenir 31 

Percy ,W, A, Farmers 34 

Perry ,L.O. Eoree quatrains 90 

Piper .M. Bindlestiff 69 

laces of* 

Rooerts,iy 4 lve 44 

Tiger j.ily 5'c 

Dreamers o7 

Robinson, E.A, I act 34 

Wandering Jew 71 

Inferential 38 

Hosenthal , David Trees need net walk tne 


Sandburg ,Cari 

Sarett ,Lev 


Accomplished facts 
Lawyers know too 

Loon 15 
Little Caribou Laces 

biff taljf 105 

Confidant 23 

Crickets at dawn 23 

Locust 23 
Pekhmet tie iionheaded 68 

Bo, 14 
Spring cowardice ' ji6 

Squall 3 

Suddenly 13 

Beauty's burden 113 

What do I caret 26 

Long hill 90 

Sea sand 42 

Titus, Ira ly ilower 16 

Torrence ,Ridge3y Apples & 

Untermeyer, Louis Rebels 24 
Auction; Anderson galleries 

Welle StVinifred Second growth H 

Gesture 33 

Resemblance 88 

Exile S3 

Young dead 93 

Uy lonel one 36 

Storm and sun 114 
for the eighth of Deo* 76 

Road to Babylon 56 

Invocation 7 

Teas dale , Sara 


Un cher t $JU 
2iaturensky. MA 4 


Across the school-ground it -would start. 

WILLIAM Boss BENET ..... 99 
A flitting benediction of words 

A lonely lake, a lonely shore. 

LEW SABETT . .... 15 

A man may think wild things under the moon. 


J-Ah, how I pity the youngdead who gave 

EDITH WHABTON ...... 98 

Although I saw before me there the face 

All night the crickets chirp. 


Be quiet, worker in my breast. 


Bed is the boon for me 

AGNES LEE ....... 79 

Behind the high white wall 

IDA O'NEIL ....... 54 

Bees, go tell the things he treasured, 


Boo-shool Boo-shoo' 

LEW SABETT ........ 105 

Christ said, "Mary," as he walked within the gulden. 

- Dearest, we are like two flowers 

AMT LOWELL . . .... SO 

Even as a hawk's in. the large heaven's hollow. 

Even when, all my body sleeps. 

Lotus GlNBBEHO ...... 22 

Every year Emily Dickinson sent one friend. 


Forgive me not! Hate me and I shall know. 

Four faces in the dark. 



God has such a splendid way 


Gray, are the gardens of our Celtic lands 

Green golden door, swing in, swing in 


He did not know that he was dead 

HABBT KEMP .... 86 

Her faith abandoned and her place despised. 


Her footsteps fall in silent sands 

Her eyes are sunlit hazel 


Her eyes hold black whips 


Her scant skirt spreads above her knees 


How far is it to Babylon 9 

I am a dancer When I pray 

AMANDA BENJAMIN H* T - T - . . . 9 
I am afraid to go into the woods 


I am weighed down beneath a clustering load 

I cannot put you away. 


I come singing the keen sweet smell of grass. 


I do not kneel at night, to say a prayer 


I have made grief a gorgeous, queenly thing 


I have on mine no likeness 


I have seen this city in the day and the sun 

CARL SANDBURG, . . ... 62 
I must have passed the crest a while ago. 

SARA TEASDALE ...... 90 

I never met the Spring alone before 

I thought of you and how you love this beauty 


I saw by looking in his eyes 

I slumbered with your poems on my breast. 


I watch the farmers in their fields 



I walked my fastest down the twilight street 


I, who fade with the lilacs 


I, who laughed my youth away 


If I could sing the song of dawn 


If there is any life when death is over 

SARA TEASD^LE . . .43 

If what we fought for seems not worth the fighting 

It swoops gray-winged across the obliterated hills 


It's just a heap of ruin 

LoxnbA BROOKE . . . . . 60 
It's little I care what path I take 


In. the dark night I heard a stirring 


I've brung you my three babes, that lost their Maw a year ago 


Let the ghost of the brave be earned away. 

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten. 

SARA TEisoALE . . . . . 43 
Light your cigarette, then, in this shadow. 

CONRAD AIKEN . . . . 53 

Lilith, Lilith wept for the moon 

HERBERT S, GORMAN . . . . 45 

Like wine grown stale, the street-lamp's pallor seeks. 


'Lot 65* John Keats to Fanny Braivne " 

Loins UNTEBMEYER . . . . 88 
Love, we have dipped Life's humble bread 

J CORSON MILLER . .... 26 

Make of my voice a blue-edged sword, Oh, Lord' 

" "MjunirifliftTi Marvelous," we called him for a joke 

J. CORSON MILLER . . . 74 

Men know tnat the birch-tree always. 

Men who have loved the ships they took to sea. 


Monsters in trousers baggy and grey. 


My arms were always quiet 


Not all flowers have souls 



Nothing to say to all those marriages 

ROBERT FBOST .... 108 

Now that the gods are gone 


Oh day of fire and sun 

SABA TEABDALE . . . . 42 

Earth you are too dear to-night 


O Love, now the herded billows over the hply plain 

O, my friend 


Observant of the way she told 


Of finest porcelain and of choicest dye 

Off the long headland, threshed about by round- 
backed breakers 


Oh line of trees all dark and green 


Oh, the lives of men, lives of men. 


On the cord dead hangs our sister. 

One deep red rose I dropped into his grave. 


One night in May in a clear sky. 

IB*. THUS . . . 16 

Ou Ou' Ou' 

People that build their houses inland. 

Red wreaths 

Saddle me up the Zebra Dun 


Searching my heart for its true sorrow 


She passes by though long ago 

HAZEL HALL ... 78 

She said, "Lift high the cup!" 


She wore purple, and when other people slept. 

AMY LOWELL ^ . .27 

Stiff in midsummer green, the stolid hillsides *"" 

Louis UNTERMEYEB . . .24 s 
Strange that she can keep with ease 



Stretching Her toes until they kiss. 


Suddenly flickered a flame 


Tethered to the canvas top 


The dust is thick along the road 

The lawyers, Bob, know too much 


The pomp of capitals long left to rust 


The Roman wall was not more grave than this. 


The roses and vines and the tall, straight, delicate poplars. 

JAMES LANE ALLEN .... . 118 
The sound of rustling silk is stilled. 


The sun shines bright in many places. 


The transports move stealthily to sea 

The ways of the \torld are a-coming up Cyarr! 

ANN COBB . . 80 

The white-walled Rome of an unwritten epic 


The wood is talking in its sleep. 


There will be rose and rhododendron. 

Edna ST VINCENT MILLAY . . .111 
They said someone was waiting 


They stormed the forts of Nature 


They that dwell in shadow 

This festal day, two thousand times returning. 

Three school-girls pass this way each day. 


To Bombay and Capetown, and ports of a hundred lands 

Trees need not walk the earth 


Two of Thy children one summer day worked in then* 
garden, Lord 


What are the islands to me 



What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring 


What is dust? 


We are the deathless dreamers of the world 


We are walking with the month. 

Scudder Middleton 92 

When the wounded seamen heard the ocean daughters 


When my young Soul went first to ride. 


When you and I are laid away. 


Yes, I've sev'ral lovers you can see 

ANN COBB . . .81 

You loved the hay in the meadow 


You sent me a sprig of mignonette 

AMY LOWELL . . 87 

You talk of this and that, of that and this. 


Your hot voice sizzles from some cool trees near by